The Last Journey
by Del Rion
Summary: After many peaceful years that have followed the war against Sauron, everything changes. Evil returns, striking without warning, and it is stronger than ever before. It is time for the final fight, but who shall achieve victory? Part of "The Journey" -series.
1. Info, OCs, Foreign Languages

**Story Info**

**Title:** The Last Journey

**Author:** Del Rion

**Fandom:** The Lord of the Rings

**Era:** Fourth Age of the Sun

**Genre:** Action/Adventure

**Rating:** M / FRM

**Main characters:** Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir, Éomer, Faramir, Gandalf, Gimli, Haldir, Legolas, Merry, Nazgûl, Pippin, original characters (, Celeborn, Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, Thranduil, various others mentioned and briefly present).

**Pairings:** Legolas/OMC (brief Aragorn/Arwen, Éowyn/Faramir)

**Summary:** After many peaceful years that have followed the war against Sauron, everything changes. Evil returns, striking without warning, and it is stronger than ever before. It is time for the final fight, but who shall achieve victory?  
Work in progress.

**Warnings:** Characters' death (major, original character), violence, torture, slash, mild sexual content (het and slash), slightly AUish twist on history.

**Beta:** Kitt Otter (ex Kitt of Lindon)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on J.R.R. Tolkien's stories about Middle-earth (mostly on the Lord of the Rings). The characters are not mine - except for those whom I have created. The story is alternative universe, but written to honour Tolkien's creations.

_Have a good time and enjoy the ride (at least I hope you do!)_

**Feedback:** Yes, please, be so kind! Please review, I would love to know your opinion.

**Author's Notes:** English is not my mother tongue, so it isn't perfect. Please inform me of spelling and grammar errors, so I can correct them!

* * *

**About ****_The Last Journey_****: **Story-line is something between the Books and the Films, so here I give some details what has happened before:

The Battle of Helm's Deep went pretty much like in the book ; no Lórien-Elves there (which means Haldir is pretty much alive).

Celeborn didn't pass over the Sea with Galadriel (so this goes by the books again).

Éomer has not yet married to Lóthiriel.

* * *

**Chapters and their status: **Here below you see the writing process of the story's chapters (this story is rather long, but I hope it will be worth the wait). If there is no text after the chapter's name, then it is finished and checked.

**00 Prophecy** (finished 8th of February 2005)  
**01 Home Return** (finished 16th of February 2005)  
**02 Longing for Past** (finished 16th of February 2005)  
**03 Death in the Night** (finished 16th of February 2005)  
**04 Funerals and Misgivings** (finished 16th of February 2005)  
**05 Curses and Laughter** (finished 16th of February 2005)  
**06 Destruction** (finished 16th of February 2005)  
**07 Sad News in Rohan** (finished 16th of February 2005)  
**08 Hunting a Prince**  
**09 Evil Tidings**  
**10 Shelter in Fangorn**  
**11 Survival**  
**12 Refusing Aid**  
**13 Discussions in the Dark**  
**14 Healing in Sorrow**  
**15 Short Counsel**  
**16 Searching Enemies**  
**17 Sadness of a Dwarf**  
**18 Journey to Ithilien**  
**19 Meeting in the Forest**  
**20 Chasing an Elf**  
**21 Rumours**  
**22 Acts of Hatred**  
**23 Visions**  
**24 Uncertain Plans**  
**25 Swift Travelling**  
**26 Receiving Company**  
**27 Fights and Surprises**  
**28 Departed One's Return**  
**29 Answers and Questions**  
**30 Love's Confessions**  
**31 Night in Bree**  
**32 Words of Wisdom**  
**33 Parting Ways **  
**34 Suspicions and Uncertainty**  
**35 Follow the Leader**  
**36 Fatal Mistakes**  
**37 Underestimating Allies**  
**38 Heart Versus Duty**  
**39 Aftermath**  
**40 Revelations**  
**41 Many Shades of Evil**  
**42 Plans of Desperation**  
**43 Unsuccessful Attempts**  
**44 Hope Fades**  
**45 "For Future, For Freedom"**  
**46 Tears of Love and Sorrow**  
**47** _Si, na vethed_ **(Here, at the End)**  
**48 Way Back Home**  
**49 Preparations for Future**  
**50 Shadows Spreading** _(not written)_  
**51 Glory of Valinor** _(not written)_  
**52 Alqualondë **_(not written)_  
**53 Summons** _(not written)_  
**54 Ranger** _(not written)_  
**55 From Bad to Worse** _(not written)_  
**56 Shadow of the Spirit** _(not written)_  
**57 The Unexpected** _(not written)_  
**58 Gaining Trust** _(not written)_  
**59 A Last Moment's Rescue** _(not written)_  
**60 Reuniting** _(not written)_  
**61 Tearing Apart** _(not written)_  
**62 Doubt Arises** _(not written)_  
**63 The Wrath of a King** _(not written)_  
**64 Betraying Blood** _(not written)_  
**65 Tidings and Answers** _(not written)_  
**66 Lost Paths** _(not written)_  
**67 Deceit** _(not written)_  
**68 Unveiled Lies** _(not written)_  
**69 Rescued** _(not written)_  
**70 Unsuccessful Searching, Unexpected Guiding** _(not written)_  
**71 Together Again** _(not written)_  
**72 Lords and Servants** _(not written)_  
**73 Changing Battlefields** _(not written)_  
**74 The Strength of Men, the Valour of Heart** _(not written)_  
**75 Journey to North** _(not written)_  
**76 On the Borders of Home** _(not written)_  
**77 The Memory of Sauron** _(not written)_  
**78 The Eve of Battle** _(not written)_  
**79** _Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar_ **(I will follow you to death and beyond)** _(not written)_  
**80 Before the Onslaught** _(not written)_  
**81 On the Edge of Darkness** _(not written)_  
**82 Charge to the Unknown** _(not written)_  
**83 In the Midst of the Battle** _(not written)_  
**84 Shedding Sindarin Blood** _(not written)_  
**85 The End of Evil** _(not written)_  
**86 Price of Victory **_(not written)_  
**87 Child of the Stars** _(not written)_  
**88 Task Fulfilled** _(not written)_  
**89 Words of Futurev** _(not written)_  
**90 Heir of Gondor** _(not written)_  
**91 Final Farewells** _(not written)_  
**92 Kings of Men** _(not written)_  
**93 Decisions** _(not written)_  
**94 The Last Journey** _(not written)_  
**95 Epilogue** _(not written)_

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**. . .**

* * *

**OC's Introductions:**

* * *

**_Elves:_**

_**The Three Cousins of Hithsîr**_  
Dínnor's father and Thalión's and Asthaldo's mothers were from the same family. Those three young Elves lived in the highlands of Taur-en-Faroth during the years of their youth. In the place called Hithsîr (Mistriver) that ran in the Taur-en-Faroth, south from Nargothrond, was fought a battle long before the destruction of Beleriand and the northern lands. Of that battle only few Elven stories tell, because it wasn't a great one, but the ones who fought in it (The Three Cousins) were named by it for years to come. Nearly hundred of Orcs that were heading to Nargothrond were waylaid there by those three and were slew during that night by them alone. The Cousins were barely adults, but they fought none the less, and the enemy was destroyed before they reached their destination. This battle is known among all the Elves, and the Three who fought in it have gained a great name in the years after, even if this first battle wasn't even near the greatest of all those they later fought.  
They were among those few Sindarin Elves who came to the Greenwood the Great with Oropher on the Second Age. They also fought with Oropher on Dagorlad, and were among those few who were led back home by Thranduil, who was made King after his return, for Oropher never returned.  
_(See my story_**Hithsîr**_)_

**Dínnor**  
Race: Sindar Elf  
Age: Born in the beginning of the First Age  
Cousin of Thalión and Asthaldo: oldest of the three Cousins of Hithsîr. Golden long hair that is all braided to small braids. Dun eyes. Good archer and excellent swordsman. Excellent tracker. Also a patient observer, when needed, though quite rush at times.

**Thalión**  
_Race:_ Sindar Elf  
_Age:_ Born in the beginning of the First Age  
Cousin of Dínnor and Asthaldo, one of the famous Cousins of Hithsîr. Long, silver hair, which upper layer is braided to small braids, blue bands braided among the hair. Powder blue eyes. Excellent archer and good with sword and knives. Strong contact to nature, and can approach his destination without waking any suspicions of his presence. Even more patient observer than Dínnor.

**Asthaldo**  
_Race:_ Sindar Elf  
_Age:_ Born in the beginning of the First Age  
Cousin of Dínnor and Thalión: youngest of the three Cousins of Hithsîr. Pale golden hair long from the back, short front hair reaches just behind ears. Fallow eyes. Good swordsman and archer. Skilled in swift, close battles with knives or swords. Also a good scout, for he is able to silence any enemy quickly and without a sound.

**Rafél**  
_Race:_ Sindar Elf of Eryn Lasgalen  
_Age:_ Born during the Age of the Stars  
One of those few Sindarin Elves who came with Oropher to the Greenwood the Great, and fought in the Battle of Dagorlad. Was Legolas' bodyguard until the Prince left with the Nine Walkers from Rivendell (Rafél was one of those who accompanied Legolas to Imladris). After that he has resumed his position as a captain in Woodland Realm's forces. Unlike (usually) to Sindar Elves, he has deep brown eyes. Long, very light, nearly white, brownish hair.

**Thrénandu**  
_Race:_ Silvan Elf of Eryn Lasgalen  
_Age:_ Born on the Second Age  
Captain in Woodland Realm's forces. Was also Legolas' tutor for years. Long golden hair and light blue eyes. Uses both bow and sword with years of experience.

**Shannai**  
_Race:_ Silvan Elf of Eryn Lasgalen  
_Age:_ Born in the beginning of the Third Age  
Long bronze hair, light green eyes. Prefers to fight with a sword or knives, not very good archer by Elven standards. Few centuries older that Legolas, and has befriended the Prince since his childhood. Possesses a very unusual nature for an Elf: loves to befriend other races and is interested about them and their culture. Remembers the heard stories well and likes to tell them anew. Excellent sense of humour.

**Tirifëa**  
_Race:_ Sindar Elf of Eryn Lasgalen  
_Age:_ Born on the Second Age  
Legolas' oldest brother and the Crown-Prince of the Woodland Realm. Long golden hair and deep grey eyes.

**Lossaurion**  
_Race:_ Sindar Elf of Eryn Lasgalen  
_Age:_ Born in the Second Age  
Legolas' older brother and a Prince of the Woodland Realm. Long golden hair and light blue eyes with a hint of green.

**Aduifan**  
_Race:_ Sindar Elf of Eryn Lasgalen  
_Age:_ Born on the end of the First Age  
Tirifëa's bodyguard. Light bronze hair and grey eyes. A skilled warrior. One of those few Sindarin Elves who came with Oropher to the Greenwood the Great.

**Mîrfanya** _Race:_ Sindar Elf of Eryn Lasgalen  
_Age:_ Born on the First Age  
Lossaurion's bodyguard. Auburn hair and green eyes. A skilled warrior. One of those few Sindarin Elves who came with Oropher to the Greenwood the Great.

**Ithika**  
_Race:_ Galadhrim (Silvan Elf of Lothlórien)  
_Age:_ Born on the Second Age  
Marchwarden of the Golden Wood. Khai's big brother. Long golden hair, light grey eyes. Good archer and tracker. Knows the Three Cousins of Hithsîr well, especially Dínnor. Knows also Legolas through his friendship to the Cousins.

**Khai**  
_Race:_ Galadhrim (Silvan Elf of Lothlórien)  
_Age:_ Born on the Second Age  
Khaiwë is her real name, but she doesn't prefer to be called by it. Marchwarden of the Golden Wood. Ithika's little sister. Long golden hair, light grey eyes with a lot of green. Good archer. Has lived long years in Mirkwood in her youth, and knows both Legolas and Shannai well. Calls Legolas as a 'little bird' or 'aiwë', because the Prince once joked with her name.

**Urnsúl**  
_Race:_ Silvan Elf of Eryn Lasgalen  
_Age:_ Born on the Second Age  
Long corn hair and pale grey eyes. Uses both sword and bow well. Arrogant and too self-confident, very impulsive. Think that all mortals are lesser beings, and that they do not deserve to be befriended by the Elves - or other immortal ones. Doesn't come along with Legolas.

**Daroth  
**_Race:_ Elf (further is not known, but he was one of those who woke on the shores of Cuiviénen)  
_Age:_ Not known, one of the First Ones  
One of the few Elves who turned to serve Melkor (later known as Morgoth), and of those Elves no stories tell. His movements are not known during the later ages after the fall of Morgoth, and he has observed the events for long in silence. Fierce in mind and power, and a skilled warrior. Knows the black arts well. Long icy silver hair and dark brown eyes that border to black. Uses any weapon with practised ease.

* * *

_**Men:**_

**Tzórag**  
_Race:_ Man, Easterling/Balchoth  
_Age:_ Over 30-years-old  
A terrible war-lord of Easterlings. Descended from Balchoth long ago disappeared. A wise man with great skill in the battle and tactics. Has been trying to unite the lands of the east against Gondor for years in silence and secrecy, and has been quite successful in that. Doesn't support rushed actions, for he has learned that watching the enemy afar before attacking is more effective than attacking with greater force. Dark skin, short, black hair on the sides and long braided in the top of the head. Dark, nearly black eyes. Used to fight with different sort of weapons, but spear and sword are his favourites.

* * *

**_Dwarves:_**

**Fundal**  
_Race:_ Dwarf of Aglarond  
_Age:_ 12 years  
Dark brown hair and brown eyes. Fundale was born in Erebor only few years after the War. His father was badly wounded in the battle before Erebor during the War of the Ring, dying few years after. Fundal was born at the same year, and the baby would have died if Legolas' wouldn't have been able to save the new-born (he was then visiting in the north with Gimli). Fundal's mother died in childbirth, and Fundal was raised by Adír, his mother's brother. A year later Adír went to Aglarond with many others of his folk and took Fundal with him, raising him as he could. Fundal grew to know Legolas well, and was the first who called him "Star-eye". Also a good friend of Gimli.

**Adír**  
_Race:_ Dwarf of Erebor  
_Age:_ Around 160 years  
Fundal's uncle. Light brown hair and grey eyes. Like most of Dwarves, he prefers axe as a weapon. Raised his nephew Fundal after his sister and her husband died. Good friend of Gimli, and also knows Legolas.

**Múran**  
_Race:_ Dwarf of Erebor  
_Age:_ Around 110 years  
A long time friend of Gimli. Long brown hair and brown eyes. Doesn't trust Elves, especially Legolas. When Gimli and Legolas befriended was the friendship of Múran's and Gimli's on line, and there is always great tension around when Múran and Legolas meet. Favours axe as a weapon like Dwarves usually.

**Tráron**  
_Race:_ Dwarf of the Iron Hills  
_Age:_ Around 150 years  
Gimli's long time friend. Dark brown long hair and brown eyes. Axe-bearer. Was at first little suspicious towards Legolas, but comes along with the Elf now, though with the other Elves Tráron is rather brisk.

* * *

**_Others:_**

**Thaíly**  
_Race:_ Half-elf, vampire ("ranger")  
_Age:_ Over 7000 years, maybe more  
Called a "Blood-sucker". Nearly black wavy hair that reaches to the shoulders, very dark eyes. Uses anything imaginable as a weapon if needed. Was bitten by a vampire as a child. When his parents noticed that this bite had an effect on their son, yet unable to kill their child, they abandoned him to the wild. During the years Thaíly changed, and wandered across the lands, named as a ranger, though he actually wasn't one. Met Legolas when the Prince was still quite young, and no-one knows how they really befriended, for neither of them ever speaks of it. But the result is that Thaíly gives his allegiance and shows respect only for one, and that is Legolas. Those who understand vampires say that Legolas' blood is sacred to Thaíly, and so anyone that harms the Prince, will face his wrath. Thaíly has met Rafél quite many times, and the two warriors share a kind of a "gentlemen's agreement" of the Prince's defending.  
_(This character was inspired by Michael Wincott's role as Rochefort in the movie "The Three Musketeers")_

**Annatar**  
_Race:_ Half-Maiar  
_Age:_ Many thousand years possibly, not known.  
A daughter of Sauron. Of her mother nothing is known, but she carries her father's strength and power - as well as his malice. No one knows what she really looks like, for she always chooses a form that pleases the spectators. Usually long black hair, very dark skin and black eyes. Uses her might well and has studied spells and magic for years. She also knows the secrets of war and tactics. It is not known if "Annatar" is her real name, or did she take it for her father's memory and honour.

**Morisûl**  
_Race:_ Horse  
Thaíly's faithful and fearless steed. Big, sturdy horse. Black dun coat and black main and tail. Enduring runner.

**Lumén**  
_Race:_ Horse (Elven-horse)  
Rafél's mount. Beautiful and slender white stallion. True Elven horse by appearance and spirit.

**Morchaint**  
_Race:_ Horse (possibly descended from Mearas)  
Legolas' horse. Great black horse, both by size and strength, yet a lasting runner and swift on short distances. Wild spirit, and by nature more like a hunter that a pray: fearless and aggressive towards others that his rider. More like a friend for Legolas that a mount.

* * *

**. . .  
**

* * *

**Foreign languages in** _The Last Journey_**:**

_Author's note: I have tried to make the languages of Middle-earth right, just like Tolkien wrote them. Every time I find right translation for a sentence, I'll update this page as well as the chapter where the sentence is. If you know the real translations for some sentences, please inform me (I use the languages used in the movies and books, which are supposed to be the right ones.) Hannon le!_

**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**  
_Ada_ - Dad (_Adar_ - Father)  
_Aiwë_ - Little bird (Legolas' nickname, used by Khai)  
_A, Lumén, vanya nîn_ - Ah, Lumén, my beauty (in this phrase, "vanya" is Quenya)  
_Anor_ - Sun  
_Dae a ruin_ - Shadow and flame  
_Daro!_ – Halt!  
_Elvellon_ - Elf-friend  
_Ernil nîn_ - My Prince  
_Gerich veleth nín_ – You have my love  
_Goheno nin_ – Forgive me  
_Hannon le_ - Thank you  
_Mae govannen_ - Well met  
_Man cenich?_ – What do you see?  
_Mellon nîn_ - My friend  
_Nai a Vala nauvar aselyë_ - May the Valar be with you  
_Naugrim_ – Dwarves (_Naug_ - Dwarf)  
_Las_ - Leaf (Legolas' nickname)  
_Lasto_ – Listen  
_Le Haran_ - Your Highness  
_Le maien dele_ - You look worried  
_Neldoreth_ – Beech  
_Pedo_ – Speak  
_Selen nîn_ - My cousin  
_Suilad_ - Hello  
_Yrch_– Orcs

**/Quenya/: - Westron:**  
_Túle_- Come

**€Khuzdul€: - Westron:**  
_Khazâd-aimênu!_ - The Dwarves are upon you!


	2. Prophecy

**Prophecy**

I amar prestan aen._  
The world is changed._  
Han mathon ne nen._  
I feel it in the water._  
Han mathon ne chae._  
I feel it in the earth._  
A han noston ned gwilith._  
I smell it in the air._

_Much that once was is lost. __  
For none now live who remember it."_

_"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,__  
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,__  
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,__  
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne__  
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.__  
One Rind to rule them all, One Rind to find them,__  
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them__  
In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie."_

So is told of the making of the Rings of Power in the Second Age of the Sun, and about the darkness that followed in the next years. Many great songs and stories tell of that time, but few are those who still live and have truly seen that time: and those who have seen the dark years ever more seldom speak of them. But in the Third Age the One Ring was destroyed, and the Dark Lord Sauron, the Maker and the Lord of the Rings, was overthrown. And so returned the long awaited peace back to Middle-earth, and its people were able to walk free in their lands once more.

But I know, that the true storm is only about to come. I can feel it. The Dark Lord isn't gone, and moment of His return is close. The power of the One Ring still exists, even if the Free People think that it was destroyed when the Ring was thrown in to the fires of Mount Doom. But when Sauron put his power in to the Ring, it was like filling a cup with water. And when the cup shatters, water will spread to the ground - but it isn't gone. And that is how the power and the life force of Sauron still remain in Middle-earth: scattered, waiting for someone to gather it together again. And as long as that power exists, the return of Sauron is only a matter of time.

Too late our enemies shall realise, that the coming of Sauron is only a beginning. The Fellowship and those who aided them shall pay dearly for their deeds, and they will regret their actions against the Dark Lord ere their end comes! They shall see how everything that has ever been dear to them will be destroyed, and that is before they'll face their own doom at the feet of the Dark Lord, begging for mercy, which shall not be granted.

And when Middle-earth is covered with shadows and darkness, it will be time to take down the Valinor, and when that time comes, even the light of the Valar cannot protect those who seek protection from them.

The Darkness shall rise again, and this time none shall stop it. And those who dared to rise against your might, father, shall fall. The Evil hasn't gone away – it is only about to come!

Come bloody dawn!

Come red nightfall!

__

to be continued…

__

For reviewers: you are the best! Hannon le!

**Devil-Angel:** Interesting... i'd like to see how it ends! Update soon plz!**  
Del Rion:** Ow, it will end… just wait and see: we are only in the beginning of the Journey...

**Red-Devil15:** WOW. creepy. this sounds cool! reading more!**  
Del Rion:** mwahah, good if it sounds creepy to you… that was the point of the thing, anyway!

**SmilingDragonGirl:** I just decided that this story is to long and to complex and to interesting to tell you what I think about it in a single review. Therefore, I will go back to chapter one and review the chapters one by one.  
Quite a beginning, I can only say! The way you started this chapter brought back this special, distinctive LotR-feeling from the movies and the books. And it already fills me with dark foreboding. The coming of Sauron only a beginning... br! shudders I wonder who gathered the life force and the power of Sauron together again? And this little word "father" leaves me brooding... Great start! (though my nerves beg to differ...g)**  
Del Rion: **Oh, hello again! And really nice you go through all this trouble ) I was really a little afraid that the Prophecy-chapter would be too usual or corn. But it seems I got the feeling of the movies all right, after all (I wrote this chapter like ten times before I was satisfied…) And it will indeed take a long time to discover all the tings, in Prophecy or not. But my plot is too great to be stuffed just in few chapters… hehe!

**kitsune:** yowsa the way you write, man I expect you to be a forthcoming author in no time. If you ever do write a book that gets published email me and let me know, for surely I will be the first in line to purchase it!**  
Del Rion:** Thank you! Your words really warmed my heart:) Actually, I have a book under work, but I doubt it will be never published in English, if at all. But worry not! When I get the original, Finnish version done, I will translate it to English and post for you people (published or not).


	3. Chapter 1: Home Return

**Chapter 1: Home Return**

**

* * *

**

Year 16 of the Fourth Age  
**(18 years after the War of the Rings),  
****Pelennor Fields, Gondor**

He had definitely been away from Minas Tirith far too long, at least for his own liking, Faramir thought wryly as he rode towards the White City with a small company around him. The Steward of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien watched in quiet admiration as the city before them glimmered in the rays of the sun. A sight that made him speechless every time.

They had just passed through Osgiliath, and soon the trumpets would welcome them to Minas Tirith, to the city of Kings. That at least was one of those few things that hadn't changed during the years of darkness in the shadow of Mordor, and after the King's return to his throne. Even during the long, dark years when the darkness of Mordor was an everyday matter, the city had welcomed its sons back home with fanfares and joy.

Faramir glanced at his side where his beautiful wife Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, rode on her white mare. A gift from Prince Legolas, given few years ago. A horse that's beauty compared even to that of Éowyn's, but for Faramir, of those two pale beautiful creatures, Éowyn would always be the most beautiful.

Éowyn noticed that she was being watched, and raised her gaze from the road, smiling warmly to her husband. Faramir returned the smile and shifted slightly on his saddle. At the moments like this he truly was envious for Éowyn, who seemed to be at home on horseback. But she had grown up in Rohan, after all, and that was the land of the Horse Lords. It could have been said that she had lived on the horseback, though that was not the exact truth, of course.

Éowyn also shifted slightly, and Faramir turned his worried gaze to his beloved quickly. "Are you weary? We could stop for a little while, if you wish."

"Don't be silly. The city is right before us, and soon I can rest as long as I wish," Éowyn said with a smile. "I know how anxious you are to arrive to Minas Tirith," she added, still smiling. Unconsciously, her hand wandered to her belly, and rested there gently. Faramir's smile broadened, and he guided his horse closer to Éowyn's, adding his own hand atop hers. She smiled as their eyes met. "The young one is fine. I think that your child shall be a great rider one day."

"And I can only guess where _that_ ability comes from," Faramir said softly, while Éowyn smiled innocently to him. Finally Faramir guided his horse a little further away from that of his wife, but stayed closer than before. His thoughts wandered on their own paths, thinking of the coming months and that day, when he would for the first time hold his firstborn child in his arms. Over the last months, he had turned quite impatient, but Éowyn had firmly told him to stop bouncing around, because the child would not be born any sooner even if its father was anxious for process. So, Faramir had solemnly surrendered to his fate, because he really had no choice.

They drew closer to the city, and Faramir could nearly see the people running to the battlements. After all, he was the Steward of Gondor, and his 'homecoming' would be cause of great celebration and happiness. And when the news of Éowyn's pregnancy would spread, it would definitely know even more celebration and even greater number of congratulations. Though he really had no problems with congratulations concerning his firstborn child… But as a Steward, he would have plenty of other things to attend his attention as well. He sighed silently and shook his head. Though King Elessar would surely tell him to be with his wife and leave the work for others, he could not do such a thing. He would see his work first, and then take care of his personal needs. That was precisely the example that the King himself gave for the people under him, and Faramir was one of them.

They arrived to the gates, and were immediately surrounded by people, who shouted their greetings. Faramir smiled and waved his hand happily. Éowyn watched silently and took a bouquet of flowers from a young girl who handed them to her smiling brightly. They rode slowly through the city, circling all the six levels, and when they arrived to the seventh and rode to the High court, the King and Queen were already waiting.

The White Tree blossomed in the sunshine and the water of the Fountain filled the air with its sweet, silent music. Slowly the group dismounted, and Faramir took Éowyn's hand into his when they started to walk towards the King and Queen on Gondor. They stopped before the King and bowed, their company mimicking their actions behind them.

"My King and Queen," Faramir saluted quietly.

Aragorn, who nowadays was called most of times as Elessar Telcontar, smiled wryly and leaned a little closer to Faramir, interrupting quietly: "Could we _at least_ leave these formalities for another time? I am quite tired, for I have spoken with advisors and ambassadors all morning, and more than a half of their words _are_ formalities!"

"Of course, my lord," Faramir said with a small smile, knowing that even though he and Elessar were close to each other, it would be hard for Steward to remember that he was supposed to address the King by his own name, not by title. Faramir truly was helplessly stuck into formalities, and he knew it himself.

Aragorn turned his gaze to Éowyn and Arwen, who were already in the middle of some sort of discussion. With a smile Aragorn cleared his throat gently, and both women turned their gazes to him. "Lady Éowyn, it is an honour to see you again."

_Speaking of formalities,_ Faramir thought.

"And is good to see you as well, my lord Aragorn," Éowyn addressed him with a smile. She knew how troubled Aragorn got when even his friend addressed him as a King.

Aragorn, on the other hand, was inspecting Éowyn with strange look in his face. Éowyn's face turned bashful and she inched closer to Faramir. Only then did his husband understand that Aragorn must have noticed her slightly swollen belly. After all, the King was a healer.

Aragorn swiftly glanced at Arwen, who nodded slightly. Aragorn looked back to the Steward and Éowyn, smiling secretly. "So now we truly have a reason to celebrate! My congratulations for you both!" _One,_ Faramir counted. But it seemed that the King wasn't finished. "I thought to tell you a little later, but this seems to be as good time as any. So," he said, wrapping his arm around Arwen gently and holding her close, "we shall have a double-celebration, I assume."

It took a moment before Faramir realised of what the King was talking about. But Éowyn, as a woman, understood very swiftly what was the case, and laughed happily, hugging Arwen with pure joy. "This is wonderful! Why haven't I heard of this before now?" Éowyn questioned.

"I think the reason is the very same as why did we not know of your pregnancy, my lady," Aragorn said smoothly.

Only then Faramir realised what the others were talking about. "So I assume that you as well share my joy of becoming a father, my liege?"

"Indeed I do, Faramir, and now we shall escort you two to your quarters, for I can see that you both would like to rest a little before the dinner."

Turning his gaze from his Lord to the women, Faramir noticed that they were already half away through the courtyard, and the two men hurried after their wives, whose bright voices filled the air with laughter and delight.

_to be continued…_


	4. Chapter 2: Longing for Past

**Chapter 2: Longing for Past **

**Same evening,**

**Minas Tirith's gardens**

The sun was setting behind the western mountains, colouring the sky with red and blue. Aragorn watched silently, Faramir close by his side, neither of them speaking. They wanted to cherish this brief moment as long as it would last; there would be plenty of time for speech later.

Slowly the sun disappeared behind the mountains and only the light of the stars lit the night. The lights from the city glowed dimly in the distance. Where the two men stood, everything was silent, and only the far voices of the people in the lower levels shouting 'good nights' broke the serenity of night.

At last Aragorn sighed deeply, raising his head so he could watch the stars above. "So many things have changed, and yet those stars are the very same ones that I watched years ago, sitting by the campfire in the wilderness." He sighed again. "Though I know I should forget such things, I cannot do it."

"Surely you don't have to forget such things, my Lord, but to cherish the memories of your past," Faramir replied quietly, gazing at the stars as well. "I feel the same longing, more often nowadays: a longing to be out there, far from cities and boring discussions about politics, surrounded by nature and steadfast companions…" Faramir trailed off, waving vaguely with his hand towards the forests on the other side of the river Anduin, which of course could not been seen right now in the darkness, but which both of them knew lay there.

Aragorn stared at the man beside him, a little shocked of the latest statement. He had not thought that Faramir could feel the same longing that he felt, as he was the same man who arranged most of the meetings to his King and was always present in them. But now Aragorn reminded himself of the fact that Faramir had _also_ been a ranger and had lived in the wilderness for long periods of time. "Steadfast companions," Aragorn echoed at last, "aye, that's what I miss as well, maybe even more than the feeling of freedom itself. It has been a long time since I have seen any of my companions from those years I yet wasn't a King. And it grieves my heart that I cannot go to my friends, but they have to come to _me_ in attempt to be in my company."

"You are a King, my Lord," Faramir said gently.

"I am, and many times during the last few years I have cursed my blood and heritage, for they have forced me into this situation. In the beginning there was so much to do and repair after Sauron's destruction, and during those years many of my friends visited me frequently. But now, they have gone to their own roads, and I have to stay here, imprisoned by my crown and my responsibilities." Aragorn's last sentence was barely a whisper, and Faramir had to strain his hearing to make out the words.

Faramir didn't know how to respond to that. After all, Aragorn was right: his friends were on their own ways now, among their own peoples, and Aragorn was bound to stay here. Of course Éomer of Rohan visited them quite often, partly because of his sister Éowyn, who now dwelled with Faramir in Gondor, though she also travelled to Rohan to meet her own people. And Legolas was also a regular visitor, because of the Elven colony he ruled in Ithilien lay close to Minas Tirith, and sometimes Aragorn went himself to Ithilien to visit his friend and to see how the Elves got along. And Gimli the Dwarf, who now ruled in Aglarond, visited often his Elven friend in Ithilien, and generally stayed also in the White City for a while, usually with the Elf. Right now Legolas and Gimli were visiting their own peoples in the north, and Éomer was busy with the matters of his own land. None of them would be expected to come into Gondor for months.

But not being able to see old friends wasn't the main problem, in the end, and Faramir knew that as well as his Lord. And he truly hoped that he would find some kind of a solution to this obstacle. But that seemed to be a rather difficult task, for they both were needed in Gondor, almost daily.

They started to walk back towards the citadel, both of then in their own thoughts, which in the end weren't very different from one another. At last Aragorn stopped, waking Faramir abruptly from his own thoughts. "My Lord?" Faramir asked silently, waiting for an answer for such a sudden stop. For a long moment Aragorn was content with only staring at the city, and then he quietly started to speak, voicing the thoughts of both men:

"I really miss those times. I do not desire for war nor death, but the feeling of excitement and freedom. I crave for uncertainty of what lies ahead tomorrow, for now I know exactly what will happen today, tomorrow… gods, I even know what will happen when the next week comes!" Aragorn gasped in anguish. "I feel so empty and useless, like I would have lost something important from the inside of me; something that before was so important that I couldn't survive without it."

Faramir smiled, but it was a smile of irony. "An adventure we need, my Lord, and soon, if that can be helped. I wonder if Prince Legolas and Master Gimli could get us into one when they return from their own, for I have herd that they have this amazing skill – especially when they are travelling together – to find adventures even from the most unlikely places."

Aragorn laughed at this comment, and at last there was no disquietude in his voice. "You are definitely right, my fellow ranger! We need an adventure. Maybe I will speak of this to Legolas and Gimli when they return."

"_If_ they return. I still find myself wondering at many occasions how they haven't managed to get each other killed by now."

They both laughed at this, sharing that opinion fully, and started walking again, their mood much lighter now than few moments before. When they arrived back to the citadel, they went to Aragorn's study to drink and speak, for they had much to discuss, and they knew that their ladies wouldn't be waiting for them.

The friendship between Arwen and Éowyn had grown greatly during the last few years, and now that they had that _one_ thing more to discuss about… Both men were definitely happy that the women got along, for they two were after all only men, and could not understand the joy of bearing a child. Now Arwen and Éowyn could speak of these matters as much as they desired, and it seemed that the Ladies took the given opportunity willingly: those two haven't been seen much apart after Éowyn's arrival. While the women took care of entertaining each other, their husbands could talk about the matters of Gondor and of their own interests.

Reaching the doors of the citadel and nodding for the saluting guards, the King and the Steward passed inside, not knowing that their so much desired 'adventure' was closer than neither of them excepted, and at the same time it would be far more terrible than neither of them would ever wish for…

_to be continued…_


	5. Chapter 3: Death in the Night

")…(" Sindarin

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Chapter 3: Death in the Night

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Same night,  
**Minas Tirith**

Arwen woke up suddenly from her thoughts, realising that the night had already fallen several hours ago. Once more she could only wonder how her body had changed after that day when she had chosen mortality… Éowyn was humming to herself, appearing to be in her own thoughts as well.

They had been sitting in Arwen's rooms for hours, speaking of things that held great importance for the both of them, but which their husbands would never understand. Of course they shared their joy of the coming children, but they weren't the ones bearing them.

Arwen smiled at the memory of that day when Aragorn had finally realised that he was going to be a father. The King had been overjoyed and for the next few days he had tried to make Arwen as comfortable as possible. That had also included the fact that Aragorn had treaded her like she was mortally wounded, pleading her all the time to lie down and to take everything as carefully as possible. At last, when her husband hadn't listened her rational words, Gwen had come to her Queen's aid. Always so caring Gwen! _She_ had told the King to stop jumping around like a foolish youth, and find himself something useful to do, because Arwen really didn't need to be taken care of like that for many months yet. Aragorn had mumbled something like an apology, rather sheepishly, and left the room like a beaten dog, realising just how stupid he had acted, apologising Arwen on many occasions later. Arwen still found herself smiling for the memory, because Aragorn was, after all, a healer himself, and had assisted in childbirth many times during his long years on this earth. But it seemed that being a father himself changed something even in Aragorn, making him be like all those other nervous fathers.

Arwen took a cup of sweet smelling tea from a table beside her and sipped, her mind wandering again. She knew it was already late, but she really wasn't tired. And Éowyn was still here to keep her company. Arwen shifted on the couch, staring out into the dark night. She and Aragorn had spent many nights like this, laying on the soft couch in each other's arms, staring outside to the darkness.

Only thing that lit the room now were the few candles, and it was already dark outside. The clouds probably covered the Moon, because its light didn't light the night very much.

"My Lady?" Éowyn asked quietly from her place. "Are you tired?"

Arwen turned to her, smiling. "Nay, I was merely thinking. Of course if you are tired you may retire."

"Oh, no, I am not weary yet, though the road was quite long and tiring for me." Éowyn played with her own cup absently. Suddenly there was a knock form the door and a soft voice called.

"Please, Gwen, come in," Arwen answered and her personal servant opened the door, bringing with her a tray of fruits.

"Good evening, my Ladies. Or I think it is night already. I brought you something little to eat, in the case you get hungry," the old woman said, putting the tray on the table between the couches.

"My thanks, Gwen. They look delicious!" Arwen said with a smile, eyeing the tray with appreciation. "You may go to sleep if you like. I don't think we need anything more from you tonight."

"Very well, my Lady. But if you need me –"

"No we won't. Now go to sleep." Arwen laughed lightly, and so Gwen bowed respectfully and left, closing the door after herself silently.

"They indeed look delicious," Éowyn said, taking a fruit knife from the tray and slicing a piece from an apple. "And Gwen is very nice as well. How did she come to a household? I think I haven't asked that before."

"She was in the household of Denethor, before Aragorn came. We met when I arrived to Gondor for the first time, and soon she was my personal servant. Of course she is closer to a friend than a servant for me, but she seems to enjoy helping me around, and keeping me company when I am lonely."

"Well, I like her already. You are lucky indeed." Suddenly Arwen tensed, and Éowyn was silenced immediately. A moment of strained stillness followed. "What is it?" Éowyn asked at length.

Arwen stared at the direction of the doorway, and Éowyn twisted around to see what the Queen was staring at. The door could not be seen from the place where they sat, and once again Arwen cursed that fact. She had heard the door shut, but hadn't heard it being opened. _One more thing that has changed after I became mortal_, she thought wryly. "Gwen?" she called out softly. Maybe Gwen had forgotten something. But hadn't she knocked, as always? And why wasn't she now answering?

Then Arwen felt something, and felt herself relax. A familiar, soothing feeling that followed the Elves wherever they went invaded her mind, and she sighed. It was no wonder she hadn't heard the door open, if the visitor was an Elf. Their kin had a skill to enter without a sound, and sometimes startle even their own kinsmen, if one was deep in thought.

Suddenly a cloaked figure came into a view. Arwen opened her mouth to greet the stranger, wondering who it was. She wasn't aware that any of the Elven kin was in Minas Tirith right now. _Maybe Legolas has returned earlier than he planned_, she thought. _Only Legolas or my brothers would dare to enter my rooms without a warning, and this Elf isn't definitely one of my brothers: I know their presence all too well._

But then the feeling changed. Where before had been warmth and comfort, was suddenly replaced with something dark and cold, which Arwen couldn't identify nor grasp. A dark, absurd fear invaded her mind. Something was _very_ wrong! Who ever it was in her room held a great strength – an evil one of that. Even with her diminished senses she could feel the evil's presence, and that fact filled her mind with terror: she had faced much darkness in her past, but all that seemed to be nothing compared to this. Darkness surrounded the Elf like a second garment, and the air itself seemed to turn colder around it. The hood shadowed the Elf's face so they could see no features at all.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Éowyn stood up, shivering. She also could feel the evil of the approaching person, whatever it was. For Éowyn it seemed to be human, tall and slender, but of course she couldn't be sure. And she didn't get any answers either. At least not in words.

Faster than any mortal eye could see, the Elf moved towards Éowyn, grasping her hair in iron grip and swinging her around, while the other hand brought up a blade to her pale throat, cutting it open with one fluid motion. Arwen watched in terror as the Elf let go of Éowyn's body, letting it fall to the couch while blood ran like a river down her white skin. Lady of Rohan was dead before she fell.

Arwen rose from her place when she noticed that the attacker came closer to her, seeking desperately for a weapon of some sort. She didn't have any idea what was going on. The attacker surely was an Elf, the stranger's every movement as Elvish as one's could be. _But in the name of the Gods, why would any Elf act like this?_ Arwen thought desperately, her eyes trying to find any kind of weapon as the attacker circled closer to her, movements silent and precise, like a cat following a mouse before attacking.

Suddenly her eyes fell to the tray in front of her, and to the small glittering knife upon it. She grabbed it quickly, backing up slowly, watching every movement of her enemy. She could have sworn that the Elf smiled when she brought up the small blade. But it was all she got, and much better than nothing.

Her attacker made the first move, bringing the near-bloodless blade towards her, but she countered the move easily, and danced away from the other Elf. A tactic that her brothers practised when locked into a small space, and which she had adopted especially from Legolas when he had had time to teach her.

Soon she started to realise that her opponent was merely playing with her, not really trying to get through her defences. Now she grew even more worried. _Why is this creature playing such a game? Does it find it amusing…_ The truth hit her. This creature _knew_ that it would win. That's why it played along.

Arwen sneered inwardly, mocking herself. _I cannot even call this monster by a name of an Elf, it seems. Is it because a mere thought of an Elf attacking me is so absurd, so _frightening_? If this keeps going, I am going to loose. But I _cannot_ loose! I have too much to live for…_ By instinct, her free hand mover closer her belly, and she set her jaw in determination. She wasn't going to give up. She wasn't going to loose.

Arwen pulled a little more away, ready to give her enemy everything she knew about fighting, and that wasn't just a little. Her brothers and husband were warriors, just like most of her friends and the people she knew. She had also been taught to fight and protect herself, and now she was going to show this creature of evil just _how_ much she had learned.

But her enemy seemed to read her thoughts, and laughed aloud. Not a nice sound, for it was filled with evil and coldness, and yet it was as soft and melodious as any Elven laugh. Arwen shivered, and so would have any other Elf in her place. There before her stood a very image of something that had once been beautiful and perfect, but was now marred and corrupted by evil.

To her surprise, the creature started to swing the tip of the blade in slow circles before her, tauntingly. Arwen's eyes reflexively darted to the blade, and she gasped aloud. The blade that was held before her was an Elven one! _Or maybe I should have known this was coming. Clearly I am not paying nearly as much attention as I should, because I didn't notice this before, and if this one is an Elf, why should it _not_ carry an Elven blade… _

")So you are one of my kin, evil one? You bring shame for all the Children of the Stars!(" Arwen shouted, hatred in her voice, but even she could hear a hint of fear colour her sharp remark.

No answer. She truly didn't know if she should have been surprised or not. _And why would this Elf wish to hurt me? _she thought fervently. _It makes no sense at all…_ She never got the answer.

Deciding that it had played long enough with its prey, the Elf attacked, faster than Arwen could react. She felt the blade upon her throat, and even when she slashed out with her own small knife, she felt the cold steel slit her throat. She tried to scream, but the sound that came from her throat wasn't even near to it. She felt the world turn blurry, and she couldn't stand on her feet anymore, so she fell into a heap to the floor.

Slowly, like savouring the moment, her attacker rolled the dying Half-elf on her back, rising the blade again and embedded it deep into the side of her slightly swollen belly. Slowly the attacker drew the blade across her belly, and when it reached the other side, the Elf pulled the blade out, laying it gently to the floor. Without a sound the evil one left the room, and as he passed by, the candles went down. Then all was silent.

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Early on the next morning

Aragorn suppressed a yawn that tried to overcome him. He hadn't slept at all, but instead discussed many things during the night with Faramir, most of them concerning the events of past. When they had stopped speaking, they had noticed that night was nearing its end, and there was no point in going to sleep anymore. So just before the sunrise, they had wandered back to the gardens to watch the coming of a new day. The morning dew was heavy and Aragorn could feel his clothes slowly get damp, but it didn't matter. It hadn't mattered during those numerous mornings in the wilderness, so why should it now?

Faramir yawned beside him, shaking himself in attempt to wake more fully. The Steward decided he would go to the bed early tonight. Luckily, they had no meetings today; Faramir wasn't quite sure if he could have been able pay attention to such important things...

Suddenly they heard hurried steps from behind them, and Arwen's personal servant Gwen rushed into view. The woman looked terrible: her hair was in disarray, face pale and eyes red, tears staining her features. Alarms started to ring in the back of Aragorn's mind immediately. Something had happened; Gwen was normally very calm and peaceful, not shoving her emotions like this. "Gwen, what –"

"My Lords, you must come, quick. The Queen and Lady Éowyn… They –" she was interrupted by a new set of sobs as new tears ran from her eyes as she wasn't able to stop them anymore.

"What has happened? Answer to me, woman!" Faramir was now worried as well, and Gwen's pitiful sobs weren't helping.

"Come, Faramir. We shall not have any more answers form her. We must go and see ourselves what has happened," Aragorn said, starting to walk in the direction of the citadel, trusting that Gwen could take care of herself. Right now all his worry was turned to Arwen, as he nearly ran across the garden. He knew Faramir was following close behind him, and soon they reached the main doors.

Guards turned to them quickly, seeing their Lords approach.

"King Elessar…"

"What has happened here?" Aragorn demanded, not even trying to hide his frustration.

"We do not know, my Lord, but something is going on in the Queen's rooms, we have heard. No news have reached us yet," one of the guards answered quickly.

Aragorn nodded and went through the doors, taking the swiftest path to his wife's rooms, his fears rising all the time. At last they reached the rooms and Aragorn pushed himself through the gathering group of people, none too gently. He reached the door and nearly crushed into the guard in the doorway. "My King, it is good you are here. Gwen told me to not to let anyone in before your arrival, but she seemed to be a little out of her mind…"

Aragorn didn't wait anymore, but pushed himself into the room, Faramir following behind him like a shadow. And then they both stopped in horror.

Slowly Aragorn crossed the room, blood draining from his face. He could now see Éowyn from where he stood – her eyes wide open and glassy, filled with fear – laying on the couch, all over in blood. And Arwen…

Aragorn was on his knees beside his beloved before he even knew it, searching for any signs of life. He found none. Touching her forehead gently, Aragorn tried to control his racing emotions. Right now he needed to be calm and reasonable, but that was the very last thing he was. Arwen was dead. Lying in the pool of drying blood, in her own blood…

Aragorn had seen death before, thousands of times, but this was different. Like loosing Halbarad in the battle of Pelennor Fields had been different from those other deaths, but _this_ hurt him even more deeply. Sorrow and uncontrolled anger rolled over him, making him feel powerless and weak before them. He felt so exhausted he wanted to collapse, and to wake again finding this all had been but a bad dream. But it wasn't so.

Distantly Aragorn was able to hear Faramir's voice, full of pain and anguish: the Steward's pain not a bit lesser than his.

Helpless. That was how he felt. Helpless to change what had happened, too helpless to control his own emotions, too helpless even to stand up…

Gasping, Aragorn cradled his dead wife in his arms, fighting the tears, but it was a losing battle. _Why? How?_ Questions ran through his mind, unheeded and in disarray. He could feel the blood on the floor stuck into his clothes, but that didn't really matter. All that mattered was that that Arwen was dead, and with her… _Child_, Aragorn woke up from his thoughts, glancing down to the bloodied body before him, actually for the first time seeing the cut in her belly. Anger flared anew inside of him, consuming all reason. He hadn't only lost his wife, but his unborn child as well. Whoever had done this, would pay dearly. _Death will be a punishment too minor for the monster who did this_, he thought.

Aragorn glanced around him and his eyes found something on the floor. A bloodied blade. Aragorn reached for it, but his hand stopped in mid-air, shock filling his mind. At the same time as he stared at the blade in shock, his head was filled with images of Elves, particularly of Legolas, holding his Elven blades, or using them in a dance of death … _An elven blade… How can it be? Why would any Elf ever… _Because indeed, the blade on the floor was an Elven blade, so similar to Legolas' white knives it made Aragorn sick.

"My Lord?"

_Why any Elf in this entire _world_ would do such a thing? It doesn't make sense. There must be something else in this…_ Aragorn thought desperately.

"My King?"

_There must be something I don't understand, something I can't see… But the blade –_

"King Elessar!" Aragorn woke from his thoughts with a jerk, glancing swiftly at the man who was calling him. Irolas stood few paces away from him, his blue eyes shining with worry and barely controlled horror. Aragorn stared at him for a long time, making the captain shift nervously. "My Lord…" Irolas began again. His glance darted behind him, where Faramir was kneeling beside his wife. The Steward wasn't in any better condition than Aragorn himself.

"I have given an order to close the gates, my Lord, and let no one out of the city – or in. If the one who did this is still within the city, it will be impossible to escape," Irolas said quietly, his voice carefully emotionless. When he was given no answer, he bowed quickly and went to the door, giving the soldiers an order that no one was to be let in to the room without the King's order. With final glance to his Lords, the captain left; ready to search every inch of the city if that would help him to find the murderer.

In the room, silence fell again. Soldiers at the door shifted nervously, glancing at each other, trying to decide what to do. It was obvious that their Lords weren't well, and yet the men weren't sure if they were supposed to do something.

On the other side of the room Faramir rose his head, his eyes meeting Aragorn's briefly. "What in the name of the Gods happened here?" his gaze swept over his King and dead Queen.

Aragorn truly wished he would have known the answer for that question.

_to be continued…_


	6. Chapter 4: Funerals and Misgivings

**Author's Notes:** The song that Aragorn sings, is a To/Die/For's song "Garden of Stones". I love that song, and if it is possible, listen it!

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Chapter 4: Funerals and Misgivings

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Next day,  
**Minas Tirith**

The next days were like a nightmare for the King of Gondor. Arwen was buried on the day after her death, but before that Aragorn was forced to examine the bodies of the dead as he could, in attempt to find at least some kind of a clue of what had happened. Though burying his wife could have waited a few more days, Aragorn didn't really wish to wait. And so was Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond the Half-elven and the Evenstar of her people, the Queen of Gondor, buried in silent sorrow and grief. Many were the tears that flowed for her memory.

Soon after the funeral, Aragorn went to his study alone, wishing to be in peace with his thoughts for a moment. Soon he found himself sitting in his chair, staring at the empty fireplace, without thoughts or sense of time. He hummed silently, and then started to sing softly to himself, letting the tears come unhindered. He couldn't remember where he had heard the song, but it kind of fitted very well to his current state of mind and soul.

"_Snow has covered her grave  
__And flowers have withered away  
__Cold wind cries in the trees  
__Silent tears mark my grief._

_The flickering, weak candlelight  
__Shatters the dead of the night  
__I bury my face in my hands  
__I try to speak but I can't._

_With a breeze arrives a sparrow  
__Lands on her gravestone  
__I raise my head and realize  
__I am no longer alone._

_Haven of shadows in the garden of stones.  
__  
Cold wind blows out the flame  
__And darkness surrounds me again  
__The sparrow starts silently singing  
__A song only she and I know._

_I shed a tear on her grave  
__And silently whisper her name  
__As cold wind still shakes the trees  
__I know she now rests in peace._

_With a breeze leaves the sparrow  
__Flies into the unknown  
__I bow my head and realize  
__I want to follow._

_Haven of shadows in the garden of stones…"_

Slowly his voice disappeared, and he sat again in silence, unable to do anything else. His grief was too great at the moment, but he knew that time would soothe the ache inside his heart. Though even time could not repair all the damages made…

At length there was knock from the door and Faramir stepped in silently. Standing in the middle of the room the Steward waited for his Lord to acknowledge his presence. After few minutes passed, Aragorn finally sighed and gestured with his hand the other man to sit.

"You do not look well, my Lord," Faramir said after a moment of cautious silence.

"I do not feel well, Faramir. But what of you? You also lost the one you love, and yet you only take care of my well-being."

Faramir didn't answer immediately, but when he did, he hesitated and chose the words carefully. "I feel great sorrow, but it seems that yours is right now greater than my own. You have been raised by the Elves, and I am sure that you feel the loss of the one you love differently than I… as well as you must understand differently why this all happened."

Aragorn didn't know what to say. Maybe Faramir had also recognised the Elven blade, or then something else in his own behaviour signalled for the Steward that he knew more than what he spoke of. Maybe telling all he knew would be better that trying to solve this riddle on his own. Faramir had been much in touch with the Elves since Legolas brought his colony to Ithilien. And Faramir also was a man with a good and wise heart: he might see something that Aragorn himself could not.

"My Lord?" Faramir asked, afraid that he had spoken the wrong words.

"We share same sorrow, and maybe together we are stronger than alone. And you were right, I think I know some things that you do not of this… attack." It was a best form Aragorn could put it in. "But important things first. What of Éowyn? Where she shall be buried?"

"To Rohan. I must take her there, and it is also my responsibility to tell King Éomer what has happened."

Aragorn nodded approvingly. "And when you take her, I shall ride with you, for I as well wish to see Éomer and be present when her sister will be laid to rest."

"Thank you, my Lord. Your presence will be welcome. But would you tell me now, as you promised, what this all is about. I find myself quite confused."

Aragorn recollected his thoughts, rubbing his brow as a sign of frustration. "I do not know much myself, but few things I have managed to pull together: whoever killed our beloved ones, passed in and out without a sign. None have seen anything, or heard. And other facts…" Aragorn trailed off, still uncertain if he should tell everything. Ultimately he decided that Faramir had the right to know everything he could tell, and so he spoke: "The blade I found from the room – the blade which was used as a killing weapon – was an Elven one. That is all I know and it confuses me, for there are very few people in all Middle-earth besides the Elves themselves who bear an Elven blade."

"So the one who committed this horrible deed could have been an Elf," Faramir said quietly, but continued before Aragorn could say a thing. "Or then the blade was left behind so it would lead us away from the right felon."

"You might be right, Faramir. Even more than you know. But in the end, what was the motive?" Aragorn said, irritation in his voice, standing up and starting to pace across the room.

Faramir continued to stare at the fireplace, but said with a firm voice: "The child."

"What?" Aragorn stopped his walking, turning to look at the other man.

"The child, my Lord. The heir of Gondor. You saw the wound in Arwen's belly. The attack was made in an attempt to kill the child, or then to make us believe so. Either way, I don't think that Éowyn was a target, because there were no such marks upon her. She merely was in a wrong place in a wrong time."

Aragorn pondered this for a moment; guilt rising in him, and then shook his head as he thought the words. "I think you are right. And I assume that you have taken time to think these questions before you came here."

"I had had very little to do, and much time to spend, my liege," Faramir said with a ghost of smile, which did not reach his eyes. "I had to do something with my mind to overcome the grief, and this seemed to be the right thing. Yet there are still too many unsolved things in this matter…"

"Not knowing the truth bothers me as well. But enough for this day. We should start to prepare our journey to Rohan, which will not be a happy one, I can tell by now. Éomer will not rest before the murderer of his sister is found," Aragorn sighed, staring out of the window.

"And I presume we are not giving up either. At least I am not ready to give up, not yet. Maybe never."

"Neither am I, Faramir, neither am I." Aragorn clenched his fists and thought the unpleasant trip before them.

Deep in his heart he thought of that day when he could finally avenge his wife and unborn child. He promised to himself that that day would come soon.

_to be continued…_


	7. Chapter 5: Curses and Laughter

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 5: Curses and Laughter**

* * *

**Eryn Lasgalen – The Wood of Greenleaves**

A white horse walked under the canopy of the trees like it belonged there. Following a nearly invisible path that ran through the forest, Arod carried his riders surely ahead – for Gimli's great annoyance. He had for a long time waited for _any_ kind opportunity to whine about their way of travelling, for he had been the one to insist – on the other side of the forest – that they should travel on foot, because it just wasn't a place for a horse to travel through the forest. Once again, he had been wrong. It seemed that Arod very much enjoyed travelling through the forest.

"Poor beast," Gimli muttered to his beard. Before him, Legolas turned his head slightly to his direction, so indicating that he had heard Gimli's words. Encouraged by this, the Dwarf continued. "It wouldn't much surprise me if this four-legged smelling creature would suddenly jump up and climb into a tree."

Legolas let out a short laughter.

"You have made this fine Rohan horse behave like a beast. No manners at all."

"If you mean that accident this morning, Master Dwarf, it was purely your own fault. _Usually_, if you wave a bunch of grass in the front of a hungry horse's nose, it _usually_ comes to you."

"Aye, but did I ask this _thing_ to stamp upon my foot?" Gimli growled.

Legolas laughed again, his bright voice ringing in the air, making Arod to prick up his ears and neigh happily. "Correct, Gimli, but now I start to wonder what you were _trying_ to tell him to do." Legolas turned around to look at the Dwarf, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.

Gimli muttered something, too quiet and muffled by a beard for even Legolas to catch. But the Elf did not stay to wonder this, as his head already turned elsewhere, his body straightening up. Gimli also prepared himself quickly, reading from his friend's movements that something was approaching. Not soon after this, Gimli felt Legolas shiver slightly. "What is it? Enemies?" Gimli asked, glancing around him, trying to identify the source of the trouble.

But Legolas remained quiet, his only answer being that he patted Arod gently to the neck, making him stop. Then he remained unmoving and silent, much to Gimli's dislike.

"Legolas…"

")Welcome home, my Prince Legolas,(" a voice called somewhere above them, and Legolas smiled. While Gimli was still struggling to translate the words, an Elf dropped from the trees to the ground, making Arod shift slightly, and paw with his front leg. With one movement Legolas controlled his horse again, dismounted swiftly and approached the other Elf, and much for Gimli's surprise, he embraced the other warmly.

")_Rafél, mae govannen, mellon nîn!_("

Only then did Gimli recognise who the Elf was. He had visited Legolas's homeland on a few occasions, and Ithilien even more often, but still he knew very few Elves. Not that it would have been his fault. It just seemed that most of the Elves weren't interested in befriending Dwarves. And on the other hand, some were more than interested… Luckily, Rafél wasn't one of those. This Elf held great importance for Legolas, and therefor, Gimli had soon learned to know him – by looks at least. It was quite difficult task to really learn to _know_ an Elf. Sometimes it still seemed that he didn't even know Legolas…

Rafél was one of those Elves who had trained Legolas, but above all else, this Elf was Legolas' bodyguard – or had been, until Legolas chose to join into Fellowship. After leaving Rivendell, Legolas hadn't seen his protector until he had returned back home after the War. Gimli could still distantly remember that Rafél had been there that day, welcoming his Prince back home. As Gimli thought it now, there had been great relief in the other's face as he had seen Legolas safe and sound – in the company of a Dwarf or not.

The two were now talking quietly, Elvish most likely, and Gimli sighed quietly. He wasn't going to waste his time in trying to translate the words that were spoken, for his knowledge in Elvish was still quite poor. Though it had improved a lot after meeting Legolas for the first time, it still wasn't quite enough to translate an entire conversation.

But soon enough the Elves turned into his direction, and with a silent nod, Rafél greeted Gimli, who responded with a small bow, carefully trying to avoid falling from the horseback. With few more words, Legolas returned to Arod, and lightly sprang onto his back, guiding him slowly forward. "Rafél is going to see us to the palace," he informed his Dwarven friend.

Gimli snorted. "Can he really allow such a delay for his duties?" Gimli knew well that Rafél was a high ranked captain in Woodland Realm's forces, and if he was out here on a duty, it probably was an important one. Gimli glanced at the Elf walking beside them, and frowned. "Or was he waiting for us here all along?"

Legolas laughed. "Do you think that any duty in this forest is more important than seeing the youngest Prince safely to the Palace?"

Gimli raised one eyebrow, and then laughed. "Well, I think you are right. If you would be here all on your own, I really doubt if you would ever manage to get into Woodland Realm…"

Legolas turned his head around, his face trying to adopt a hurt and offended look. Gimli only gave him an innocent look, which caused Legolas to narrow his eyes dangerously.

Beside them, Rafél laughed quietly, watching their play, amused. He had witnessed these kinds of discussions often enough to know that it wasn't necessary for him to protect his Prince's honour. In any minute, Legolas would come up with some sharp remark, and the game would begin anew. While waiting for that, Rafél whistled loudly, and after some moments, a white horse galloped from the forest, stopping only few inches before Rafél, pushing his chest gently with his long nose, whinnying as a greeting. )_A, Lumén, vanya nîn!_ Where were you? Look who is here? Shall we see Legolas home safely?( Rafél questioned his horse lightly.

Legolas let out a delicate snort for response, and Lumén neighed happily, turning around so he was able to nudge Legolas' leg with his head. Arod, on the other hand, seemed not to like this kind of behaviour towards his rider, and he tossed his head, whinnying with disapproval. Legolas laughed, pushing Lumén away playfully, and soothed Arod, stroking his neck. "It is well, Arod. He is merely saying 'hello'. He means no harm!"

Arod flattened his ears, and shook his head, snorting. Legolas sighed, and Gimli mumbled something about spoiled horses. While this lasted, Rafél mounted. When Legolas noticed the other was ready, he urged Arod ahead again, and they started to trot through the forest.

For a moment they spoke nothing, but then Legolas asked softly: "How are things at home? Do they know we are coming?"

Rafél glanced at his Prince and answered slowly: "All is well. Maybe too well: the warriors are getting restless. But that is always an inevitable consequence when a long war ends. And our war has been a rather long one…" he sighed. "Your people are aware of your return, and they are waiting you to arrive soon, no doubt. There will be a great celebration when you get back home."

Legolas smiled, and laughed a little as he felt Gimli shift slightly behind him. He knew that the Dwarf was as eager to arrive to Woodland Realm as he was, if not for the celebration ahead, then at least for a change to get down from the horseback. Though Gimli was nowadays a seasoned 'rider', he also had his limits. "It will be good to be home again. And moreover, to meet my father. There are a lot of things I wish to speak with him about." After Legolas had said this, Rafél shifted somewhat nervously upon his horse. Legolas glanced at him, puzzled. "Is something wrong, Rafél?"

"Well, I think your discussion with your father must wait for a while."

"Why is that? I am sure he isn't that busy that he cannot meet his son…"

"I wouldn't be too sure of that…" Rafél muttered.

"So what is it? Is my father aware of Gimli's presence, and therefor isn't willing to meet me?" Legolas voice was steadily growing more irritated.

Noting this, Rafél answered directly. "Your father cannot speak with you, because he isn't here."

"What?" Legolas stared at the elder Elf in disbelief.

Rafél merely shrugged. "He left some days ago. We are not expecting him back anytime soon."

"Left? Where? Surely he knew I was coming."

"Yes, I think he knew, but that information didn't seem to bother him too much," Rafél said, and Gimli thought he heard something akin to disgust in his voice, and wondered that.

"So, where has he gone?" Gimli asked gruffly, knowing that Legolas was still trying to get over his shock.

"No-one knows."

"Surely he told someone. He is a King, after all," Gimli wondered.

"Nay, he told none. The only thing we know is that he went north, but further than that, we cannot tell," Rafél answered.

"You speak as if he went alone," Gimli said, glancing swiftly at Legolas.

"That is why I said so: he went alone. Or, well, not alone: there were others waiting for him on our borders."

"Others?" Gimli asked, getting more and more confused all the time.

"He took none of our own people with him: no esquire, no escort, no warriors, nothing. But our northern scouts reported that there were some men waiting for him in the north, and that they continued from there together."

"So you let your King go alone, with mere strangers?" Gimli shouted, astonished.

Grimly, Rafél nodded. "That is how he wants it done." Before Gimli could react to this, he continued: "This is not the first time. During the last year or so, this has become a quite usual tradition, if that is how you wish to call it. But you shall hear more from your brothers and Thrénandu, they are more aware of this situation than I," Rafél said, pointing his answer more to Legolas reaction, who was now frowning in confusion.

Slowly, Legolas nodded, and the rest of the way back home was travelled in tense silence.

* * *

**Next morning, **  
**Woodland Realm**

The new morning was pale and beautiful in Woodland Realm. The rays of the sun shone through the layers of leaves, filling the forest with green light. But there was one who did not notice the beauty of the beginning day. _And for once, the one who is ignorant isn't the Dwarf_, Gimli son of Glóin thought bitterly. He stood on the one side of the room of Eryn Lasgalen's youngest prince, and tried to stay out of his friend's way while the Elf dashed around the room like a whirlwind. _Angry whirlwind_, Gimli added to himself. _Or maybe 'angry' is not the right word, not even nearly bad enough. 'Furious' would be good, or 'extremely irritated'. But this Dwarf isn't quite sure if even those words are bad enough._ Gimli sighed mentally; afraid to do it physically, because it might mean that the Elf would notice him and that _he_ would be the one to receive the onslaught of Legolas' particular emotions.

Not that he would have been afraid of the Elf. What a ridiculous idea! He merely didn't want to be shouted without a reason. At the other hand, the Elf always shouted to him without a reason on those rare occasions his friend lost his temper – and Gimli never forgot to remind his friend about those moments afterwards. Or maybe just a _few_ of those times had been justified, but Gimli wasn't quite sure if his actions had been _that_ bad…

But maybe Legolas had the right to be angry this time. Gimli wasn't sure if he should laugh or be offended by the actions that the house of Oropher showed towards him. Or a particular member of it. But right now he didn't feel offended, only sorry for his friend. He knew how ashamed Legolas was of his father's actions toward the Dwarves when one of their kin came to visit in Eryn Lasgalen, or was otherwise in touch with the Elves.

The hate between the Elves and the Dwarves was long and bitter, and now that Gimli and Legolas tried to make a peace between their races, the results weren't always promising: old ways stuck hard. Not that the King of former Mirkwood would have been the only one to stuck into old manners. Other Elves were rather suspicious towards the Dwarves, and Dwarves… Gimli felt like sighing again. At least _his_ father was giving Legolas a chance to prove himself trustworthy – when it suited Glóin himself, that was – but there were ones that would have rather told their opinions with their axes.

For his shame, Gimli remembered well the days when he had felt the same distrust towards the Elves, but those days were long gone. The more he met Elves, the more he realised that his kin was wrong. Just as much as the Elves were wrong about Dwarves. But some just weren't ready to admit that their opinion wasn't a right one.

This time the main problem wasn't the behaviour of Eryn Lasgalen's King towards Gimli, not at least patently so. He and Legolas had arrived to the borders of Eryn Lasgalen a few days ago. Of course travelling through the wide forest took time, and they had come to the northern part of the forest the last morning. The people of Woodland Realm had known for long that their Prince was coming, but when they came to the palace, they were told yet again that the King wasn't present. Indeed, like Rafél had said, he had left only few days before towards north, and none knew when he would return.

The thing that had first worried Legolas was the fact that his father hadn't taken a guard of his own people with him, but a group of strangers, who, he heard, had also accompanied the King on his trips to the north before – journeys that could take even _weeks_. But if their King wished to take a journey with total strangers, his people had very little to say in the matter. Legolas had indeed been worried for a while, but that feeling didn't last long. After that came burning anger, and when the youngest Prince of Eryn Lasgalen was angry, it was a sight to behold. In the case you weren't the one to receive that anger…

This time Gimli sighed physically as well, risking his wellbeing for a moment. He didn't quite understand this whole ordeal, but knowing his Elven friend, Legolas would dig out every little piece of information of these 'strangers' and 'journeys to north'. A talent, which he had adopted from Aragorn, or so it seemed to Gimli. Or other way around. Legolas was after all nearly three thousand years old. Or maybe it was generally an Elven trick, for Aragorn had been raised in Rivendell by the Elves…

Suddenly a door of the room opened and an Elf stepped inside, closing the door silently behind him. _Bold_, Gimli thought, _very bold_. But any less couldn't have been expected from _this_ Elf. The newcomer inched close to Gimli quietly, watching for a while how Legolas strode through the room cursing under his breath. And as suddenly as the Elf had come, he turned to Gimli, a wide grin spreading to his face. _A very un-elvish grin_, Gimli added to himself. _Though, very normal for this one._

"Hello Gimli. I thought to come and see how you fare with our dear Prince. I'm glad to find you still in one peace."

Gimli's only comment for that was a risen eyebrow.

"Oh come on, you know what he is like in _those_ moods. We are all very lucky that they are extremely rare. Though they are coming more usual nowadays," the Elf sighed, shaking his head dramatically.

"Your point, Shannai?" Gimli finally asked. He also knew that there possibly was no point. Just some mischief, that's all.

Shannai was the most unordinary Elf he had ever met, and probably ever would: Shannai was also one of those _very_ rare Elves who wished to befriend Gimli – a thing that the Dwarf had learned quickly after he came to Woodland Realm for the first time. Shannai looked like a normal Elf: pale skin, long bronze hair, light green eyes and pointy ears. And that was about it. Of course he had all the abilities of Elves as well, though he didn't prefer a bow as a weapon, but a sword or a knife; with a bow he wasn't very good, especially when compared to other Elves, though among Men he would have been among the best. But the ability that made him different from the other Elves was his curiosity and open mind for new things. As soon as he had met Gimli, he had tried to learn everything about Dwarves from him. He still did, though he knew quite much already. He didn't feel distrust towards any of their kin, and his curiosity didn't stop just to Dwarves. He was curious about everyone and everything, always listening to stories and songs, learning new things from them. And if you asked something about those stories from him later on, you could only notice that he seemed to remember every single word. So Shannai was a popular storyteller among his people. But he never twisted the stories so they would show only the good side of the Elves: he showed also the positive side of the other races, just like they had been told in the stories. And that wasn't the end of it. He was a jester. This Elf had excellent sense of humour, and he could turn your every word upside down in seconds. He made joke of everything, and that sometimes led him into a trouble. Legolas had told Gimli once that Shannai had been much worse in his youth, and Gimli really found it hard to believe. But Legolas and Shannai were friends far from past – though Shannai was a bit older – and Gimli thought that Legolas probably knew what he was talking about…

Shannai had even threatened to come and stay in Glittering Caves for a while to see the _real_ life of the Dwarves. Gimli didn't doubt for a second that the Elf would really _do_ it. He could just wait and dread for that day. Or the day when Shannai would meet Hobbits. Though the Hobbits would be more than happy to tell about their lifestyle, and to show it as well. Maybe Shannai should have been born as a Hobbit after all. Or as a Man. Or even as a Dwarf. Someone had made a terrible mistake when this particular creature had born as an _Elf_. It just didn't fit. And Shannai thoroughly agreed to that. Actually it was he who had said it for the first time...

Gimli glared up to the Elf – somewhat shorter than the others of his kin, yet still taller than Gimli himself – waiting for an answer.

"Are you going somewhere?" Shannai asked after a while, watching Legolas do some kind of preparations, though it seemed that the Prince couldn't hold his thoughts in the work he was doing.

"Out," Gimli sighed, shaking his head. "We are going out. Or that's what I _guess_ we are going to do. Of course I can't be sure, for he isn't really telling me anything right now."

"Have you even asked?" Shannai asked with a smile.

"Are you crazy? If I would have done nothing else but stood here quietly as a ghost all this time, I really might say that I wouldn't be in one piece any more."

Shannai watched him with his eyes wide with playful terror, turning quickly to glance at his Prince. "Well, my friend, in that case I wish you luck to your journey, for it may be you last. But worry not! Thou shall die for a greater cause, if that shall be thou destiny."

Gimli tried very hard not to laugh. Shannai was so dramatic it was actually ridiculous, which most likely was the meaning. But the show hadn't ended just yet, though the smile that now covered Shannai's face was one of total innocence. "What?" Gimli asked, curious about where Shannai was aiming.

"Nothing," the Elf answered, but he definitely wasn't finished. And because Gimli wanted to see where this particular game would lead, he played along.

"So, you won't find any Orcs for Legolas to play with? I think it would help him to ease his mind." This was actually a half serious question from the Dwarf, because he really thought that some fighting and killing would right now do only good for Legolas…

"I think that cannot be arranged, my good master Dwarf. But I'm sure _you_ will personally help him to ease is mind. Outside air will do well for him. And you look like that you could use some exercise yourself: it seems to me that you have gained weight since I saw you last time –"

"You little Elven – !"

Shannai quickly jumped away from Gimli, laughing uncontrollably. "All right, all right! I will go. But just remember to take good care of our precious Prince Greenleaf, because you don't want to be present when the King arrives if something happens to his youngest."

"Aye. But I think that your Elven Princeling is in much more greater danger _without_ me. No get off from here! Have you nothing better to do than jump around here jeering at me?"

"But master Gimli, jeering at everyone and everything is the mission of my life." Shannai bowed and left the room, leaving Gimli to shake his head amused, a small smile on his face. If Shannai had come here to cheer him up, he had succeeded. Most likely that was the case, because after all Shannai _was_ an Elf, and he had also that serious side in him, though it wasn't seen very often.

Suddenly he was aware of Legolas' gaze upon him. The archer stood in the middle of the room, staring at him like he had never seen a Dwarf before in his life, gazing him up and down from head to feet and back. "Shannai was here," Gimli said, crumpling slightly.

"I know, I really could not help but notice." A pause. More intense staring. "Are you really going to go out in _those_ clothes?" the Elf asked, referring to the normal clothes that the Dwarf always wore: chainmail, leather jerkin, more armour… Altogether, normal clothing for a Dwarf to wear.

As a response, Gimli placed his feet firmly to the ground, putting his hands across his chest and glared at Legolas for return with deathly gaze.

Legolas _nearly_ laughed. "All right, but you are the one carrying them. But don't you come whining to me when you ware down on the road and can't go on anymore because of the weight of your gear." After he had said that, the Elf walked to the door, knowing the Dwarf would follow.

And so the Dwarf did, muttering darkly: "I really don't know about you _Elves_, but we _Dwarves_ don't just 'wear down' on the road."

They walked swiftly through the halls of stone and came at last to the fresh morning air. No Elf stopped them, for they clearly saw that their Prince wasn't in the mood for speech. So the pair was left alone as they walked to the forest, and Gimli felt a slight hint of worry of what would come. In these moods Legolas was unpredictable – even more so than usual – and the Dwarf couldn't guess where they were going or for how long. The only thing he knew was that he should not let the Elf out of his sight. Steeling himself for what was coming, Gimli walked after Legolas into the shadows of the forest.

* * *

Legolas marched along a hidden path through the forest. For Elves the path would be visible as any, but others races could not make it out from the forest floor. His thoughts were dark and angry, and every now and then he muttered Elven curses, not really caring if they fitted to this current moment or not. Of course this wasn't normal to him, for usually he was very calm when things turned against him, and he had learned to hide his emotions well in his father's court during his long years. But today was different. He and Gimli had come a long way to visit his homeland, sending a message of their coming long before, and when they arrived, his father wasn't here! He had dared to leave, just few days before! It was – in Legolas' point of view – as insulting as any offence his father could say to Gimli – or to his own son.

It was a clear signal that Thranduil wasn't even interested of his son's actions to bring peace and friendship between Elves and Dwarves. It seemed more like his father was doing his very best to destroy Legolas' work to the ground. _But Dwarves love ground, so is it that bad?_ Legolas tried to humour himself, but it just left him even more irritated. He felt himself personally insulted by his father's actions, but there was nothing he could do about it right now.

To relieve his growing frustration he absently kicked a rock upon the road, sending it off flying to the bushes. "And what has that poor peace of nature done to you to receive such a treatment?" a gruff voice asked behind him. Legolas found himself smiling for the first time that day – actually the first time after they had arrived to the palace's area. He had totally forgotten Gimli. Partly he had thought that the Dwarf would have stayed in the palace, because his Elven companion wasn't very responsive that day. But as always, Gimli had followed him, trying to ease his mood, and at last he was truly doing success. As an answer, Legolas merely shrugged and kept walking, heading to no specific place, but wanting to get away from the other Elves for a while. The company of a Dwarf, on the other hand, would do him only good.

After they had walked a few more hours without any direction or goal, Legolas started to feel a little better. He started to hum quietly himself, touching the trees as he passed by them, listening at the wind and the trees around him, enjoying of their touch on his skin. He walked for a while like this, until he came to an edge of a small clearing. Before him was a short but steep downhill. He considered his options for a while, and then he swiftly leaped down the slope, landing to the high grass on the foot of the downhill with a grace of a deer.

In the middle of this clearing ran a small river deep in the riverbed, which was about two yards deep, the Elf observed. The way to the other side was at least four yards; so jumping over it may not be the best possible idea. The water wasn't deep, and Legolas didn't doubt for a moment that he would fail if he would try jumping, but there were other ways to get over the river: he just had to find it first. And when he looked to his right, he saw a fallen tree that made a nice bridge over the river.

Smiling, Legolas ran to the tree and jumped on it, when suddenly a terrible roar filled the air. Right after it followed a serial of thuds and shouts, clinging of chain and dwarvish curses, which all ended up in a one loud thud, and then there was only some less coherent cursing. Legolas turned around in instant to see what happened, and saw one of the most comic sights of his life; Gimli rolled down the downhill and then crushed into the tree standing near the end of the slope, making the old branches and leaves of the tree fall all over him. Muttering terrible things about one certain pointy-eared, tree hugging Elf, he rose to sit up.

Legolas merely watched while Gimli rose himself from the ground, and walked – still muttering – to the place where the Elf was standing on the fallen tree. When he reached the Elf, Gimli stopped, hands upon his chest, giving Legolas maybe one of the most terrible glances in all Middle-earth, and which perhaps would have put even Gandalf in shame.

Legolas, on the other hand, kept his face expressionless with great care, though it was a hard task indeed. If Gimli wouldn't do something fast, he was sure he would burst into laughter. But this time the Dwarf saved him.

"I came with you just because of our friendship, but even my tolerance has its limits! We have been walking for hours, running around this _brushwood_, going nowhere as far as I can see. I could have stayed to the palace, and be now lying in some nice, sunny place and just _enjoy_ myself. But here I am, in the middle of this stinking forest, where every tree seems to think that their only mission is to trip up one very specific Dwarf – or at least try it! I've had enough! Keep your childish games, for this Dwarf is going back right now! I'm hungry and tired and my feet ache, but you just want to rush through every bush, swamp, pog, _every_ nettle of bush and burr that you can find on your way." Gimli took a deep breath, eyes flaring with anger, his mind literally fuming. "Keep your fun. I'm leaving!" Gimli shouted at last, taking his helmet from his head and threw it to the ground and then just stared up to his friend, thoroughly offended look upon his face.

Legolas looked at the Dwarf thoughtfully, smile slowly forming on his face. He had known that taking Gimli with him would be a good idea. Slowly he walked to the end of the fallen tree, standing right before the other warrior, and with an absent movement he pulled few splinters of wood out of the Dwarf's beard, while speaking: "I'm quite sure, master Dwarf, that you would feel much better right now if you would have left even a little part of your armour to the palace when we left, like I suggested."

"The armour is not the fault," Gimli said slowly, "but one silly Elf! No stop tugging my beard, Elfling, or you will feel the full wrath of a certain, very enraged Dwarf!" Gimli practically shouted, causing Legolas to flinch back, startled. Then Gimli snorted, turned on his heels, and strode back to the direction where they had come from.

"Master Dwarf…"

"Not a word, Legolas. I do not wish to see you, hear you, or even feel you around me! Have I made myself clear!"

"Yes you have, unforgettably, but if you wish to go back to the palace, you are going into a wrong direction."

The Dwarf stopped on his tracks, turning his head to look at the Elf behind him. "What?"

"The palace," Legolas said slowly, pointing on the way on the other side of the river, "is that way. We have walked in a wide circle."

"Are you sure?"

This time it was Legolas' turn to make an offended face. "Master Dwarf, I am an Elf, and Elves usually know how to walk in the forests, and most of all, I have lived in these woods my entire life, which is –"

"A long time, yes, yes, yes! I have heard that all before. Now if you could be so kind and show me the _right_ way back to the palace, I would be most pleased."

"Of course, Gimli. And you are right: we have been travelling for a long time, and now is time to return. So come! Let us find our way back!" And without a further word, Legolas ran lightly along the fallen tree over the river, and disappeared among the trees. Gimli grumbled yet again, and started to walk slowly after the Elf. He knew the other one would wait him, and he would definitely make sure of that that the rest of this ridiculous trip would be travelled with _his_ speed. Far ahead he could hear the Elf's clear voice: "Come, Master Dwarf, night is falling soon, and I'm sure you don't want to stay in this _brushwood_ long enough to sleep." With a sigh, the Dwarf swore something inaudible under his breath, and slowly climbed to the fallen tree, watching it suspiciously.

The tree had dug itself steadily into the ground, and was wide enough to be crossed easily. Gimli gave it last suspicious look and then started to march over it confidently, which was a mistake. The wet bark got loose, and with a terrible shout, the Dwarf fell from the makeshift bridge.

Not two seconds later Legolas was back on the riverside, bow and arrow ready. When he didn't see the Dwarf anywhere he grew worried. Then suddenly a quiet cursing reached his sensitive ears, and slowly he walked to the riverbank. And then he laughed. Down before him sat Gimli, waist deep in the water, looking _very_ unhappy and wet.

"Very funny Legolas. If I would be you, I would close my mouth very quickly and help me up from here even quicker!"

"Of course. Immediately," Legolas gasped, and then started to laugh again. Gimli just sneered. The only positive thing in this situation was that Legolas had got his light mood back. Gimli, on the other hand… wasn't too happy anymore.

* * *

**A few hours later, **  
**The court of Eryn Lasgalen**

When the pair arrived back to the palace the sun was already setting. Gimli was wet and hungry, but his mood was better than before. He and Legolas had joked on their way back from the forest, or talked about everything between mining and gardening. As usual. It seemed that Legolas was himself again, and Gimli felt a slight rush of pride run through him, knowing that he was the cause for this sudden change for the better. Though he would be feeling much better himself when he would get something warm, dry and clean to wear.

When they came to the corridor that led into their rooms, they nearly ran into Shannai. It didn't take long from the other Elf to find something to say about Gimli's current state of appearance. "But my Lord Gimli! What has happened to you? If I wouldn't have known better, I would have thought that our dear Prince had brought some kind of a river-rat with him." Even Gimli's deathly glare didn't make Shannai's smile vanish. Then Legolas broke the situation, asking Shannai if he could bring them some food to his rooms, and with those words, the company parted – while Shannai still grinning like a fool.

In Legolas' rooms there was a warm bath waiting, and as the Elf didn't wish to bathe, Gimli took advantage of the chance to clean himself. When he came from the bath, the food was already waiting, and then they sat together to eat. For a moment Gimli had been worried that Shannai would have stayed with them for a dinner. Not that he didn't like Shannai: he just wished to spend some time alone with Legolas, that's all.

They didn't speak much during the dinner, though, but enjoyed each other's silent company. After they had eaten, Legolas put the dishes aside, and they went to sit before a small fireplace. As he sat there, a small fire warming the air, Legolas combed Gimli's hair with careful hands, humming to himself. Gimli let himself relax, enjoying of the moment, knowing that he would miss these kind of evenings when he would sit alone in his chambers in Aglarond. When Legolas was finished with his hair, the Elf put the comb away, and sat down beside Gimli, leaning lightly against the Dwarf's side, resting his head upon the other's shoulder.

They sat thus for a long while, both in their thoughts, content.

"Do you remember the first time I arrived to your home? After the War," Gimli asked at length. He felt Legolas shrug beside him.

"Of course, Elvellon. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering… didn't we sit before this very same hearth that night when we arrived?"

Legolas frowned. "So we did. Indeed your memory isn't failing you yet."

"And I hope it won't do so for a long time," Gimli laughed softly, caught in memory. "That evening… is maybe the most pleasant memory that I have from that visit, you know." Beside him, Legolas shifted, and Gimli turned his head so he could look at his friend. But Legolas refused to meet his eyes, and Gimli swiftly understood that he had chosen the wrong words. "I didn't mean to say that my first visit to your homeland was a poor one: that one evening just brings me much good memories."

"You don't have to embellish your words for me, Gimli. I know your first visit here was a disaster," Legolas whispered gravely.

"No it wasn't! Why do you think that?" Gimli pressed, knowing well where this current discussion was leading. They had spoken of this before, and Gimli had thought Legolas had got over it, but it seemed that his friend still needed some more time…

"Because all your time here you had to hide behind my back so anyone of my kin wouldn't shoot you!" Legolas shouted somewhat frustrated, shame colouring his cheeks.

"You know that isn't the truth. No one would have dared to shoot me, you in front of me or not. I was here as your guest, after all."

Legolas let out a short, ironic laughter. "I'm sure they just lacked a little encouraging to do so… a little errand from you, and…" Legolas never finished his sentence.

But Gimli wasn't going to give up so easily. "Maybe it was so that my life was in danger, but you kept very good care of me. You accompanied me all the time; you shared your room with me… I didn't feel a bit offended or threatened while I was here, and mostly the thanks goes to you."

Legolas didn't answer to this, only stared at Gimli.

Gimli smiled to his friend, and put one arm around the slender but strong archer's shoulders. "And what of your first visit to my home, hmm? I would call that a disaster, if anything. You weren't even let to enter to the caves, and I was sure than more than one of my people planned to sneak up to you and end your life without further hesitation."

"That's different –"

"Different? No, it isn't. And don't try to argue with me, Elf! I was quite safe here among your people. And now, today, I know I am safe as ever under the tall trees of Eryn Lasgalen. Your people know me, and respect our friendship. Some of your kin have even come and talked to me – and I don't mean only Shannai here. Among the Elves, I am Elvellon. But among Dwarves, you are still only an Elf," Gimli finished somewhat sadly. He lifted his eyes from the fire to see Legolas' face, and was moved by the emotions that he saw in the blue eyes.

Legolas smiled, and laid his head on Gimli's shoulder again. "They will learn," he said quietly. "Just like you learned. And if they do not… well, it will be their loss, I guess."

Suddenly Gimli sprang up, startling Legolas. The Elf watched questioningly as Gimli went to his pack, searching something from within it. "Gimli, what are you doing?"

Gimli merely murmured something inaudible, and then at last lifted something from his pack. Legolas looked at him interested as Gimli returned to his side, carrying in his arms a small wooden box that was carved with runes and beautiful markings.

Gimli kneeled down in front of Legolas, who waited patiently, and slowly the Dwarf opened the box, raising something from inside. "I made these in Aglarond last winter. First I didn't really know what I was doing, but then the idea struck me, when I one day saw a small bird circle around the citadel, carrying a small rock in it's feet. I still had those two green stones that you found from the caves... those with the star-shapes in them."

"I remember," Legolas said, waiting for the other to go on.

"I thought so too. But, well, these are what I made, and I hope that you like them… I thought these symbol our friendship quite well… or something…" Gimli trailed off, and rose his hands, letting Legolas see for the first time what he held in them.

Legolas gasped. "Gimli… they, they are beautiful," he exclaimed.

Gimli merely shrugged, and extended his hands so Legolas could take the objects from him.

Legolas took the offered things carefully, sliding his fingers gently over two necklaces he now held in his hand. They were two identical birds – made of mithril and silver as far as Legolas could tell – winds slightly spread like it would have been flying, or protecting the round stone that it carried in it's feet. The green stones that the birds carried were deep shade of green, and from the middle of them was a shape, like a star. Legolas followed every curve of those beautiful creations with his eyes, and yet again he could only wonder how gifted Gimli truly was in crafting.

Finally Legolas lifted his eyes to Gimli's, who was watching his every reaction carefully. "You must have spent awfully much time in the making of these," Legolas finally stated.

"Well, after seeing your face, it is worth it. So, do you think that…"

"Do I think that these jewels are good enough to symbol our everlasting friendship? Yes. But," he stated, looking at the necklaces in his hand again, "there is something missing in them."

"Missing?" Gimli asked, puzzled.

Legolas only nodded, and smiled mysteriously. Then he took each necklace to one hand, curling his fingers carefully around them and then raised his hands close to his chest, bowing his head and murmured quietly some words that Gimli couldn't understand. Suddenly, Legolas' inner glow blazed, shining brighter than before, and Gimli could only stare in awe at his friend. Slowly, the glowing around Legolas ceased, and the Elf raised his head to meet Gimli's gaze, his blue eyes still shining brightly. He brought forwards his hands, and uncurling them, revealed the necklaces.

Now it was Gimli's turn to gasp. The green stones were now glowing brightly with their own inner light, as if they would have been alive.

"For now on, whenever these two are close to each other, they shall glow in happiness of their closeness; just like I feel happiness whenever I am with you, Elvellon," Legolas said softly, smiling.

Gimli nodded, swallowing, and took one of the necklaces, putting it carefully around his neck. "I can feel it," he gasped softly, touching the necklace carefully with his hand, as if he was afraid he would somehow ruin it with his caress.

Legolas laughed. "Ai, as I can feel you. And whenever we shall be apart again, these will bring us consolation, for through these we are now bound. Yet these jewels are but one stage in which we are bound," he said softly, touching his own necklace in turn, and if possible, the stone shone even brighter, and Gimli felt his friend's presence even stronger.

"_Hannon le, mellon nîn_" Gimli said, his voice rough with emotions. He quickly wiped a tear from the corned of his eye.

"A very least I could do," Legolas replied quietly.

A few moments passed like this, both of them again staring at the fire. Soon Gimli found himself dozing, weariness creeping over him.

"I think you should go to sleep," Legolas said gently, waking Gimli from his dream-like state.

Gimli nodded, yawned, and stood up, walking somewhat stiffly to his bed. Legolas sat alone for a moment, and then also stood up, gazing at Gimli, who already was lying in his bead, seemingly content. "I will go to the Main Hall, for there will be a celebration of some kind. Don't worry, there shall be many enough celebrations you can attend to before we shall leave from Woodland Realm." Gimli only grumbled in answer, pulling the blanket over himself. "I'm not sure if I'll join you tonight." Another grumble. "So, I wish you sweet dreams." No more grumbling, just snoring. Legolas shook his head, smiling. Last time Gimli had been this tired it has been after the war against Sauron has ended: there has been very little time for them to rest during the journey across Middle-earth.

With one last glance at his friend, Legolas left the room silently, going to join to the other Elves in the Main Hall. There would be celebration for days because of his return – and Gimli's, of course. There were already many among his people who knew the Dwarf and welcomed him with happiness – though Legolas hoped that there would be more in the future, but this already was a good start. With a soft sigh, he closed the door of his room and walked to the dim corridor.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**  
_Mae govannen_ - Well met  
_Mellon nîn_ - My friend  
_A, Lumén, vanya nîn_ - Ah, Lumén, my beauty (in this phrase, "vanya" is Quenya)  
_Elvellon_ - Elf-friend  
_Hannon le_ - Thank you


	8. Chapter 6: Destruction

**Author's Notes:** I do not know about the structure of the caves of Woodland Realm, so I make it out of my own head, trying not to give exact details – which I don't have. I think that there are bigger halls and smaller halls (wow, I even surprise myself with this master conclusion) and I put few of the biggest halls soon after the main entrance. The centre of all is the Main Hall, where most of the celebrations are held. Of course there is also "throne room" and such places, but I guess you can you all can make out your own image with your imagination. I think that my own inner image could be quite near the reality, but of course there can be bigger halls deeper in the caves as well! Inform me, if you have inform based upon Thranduil's kingdom, I would be most grateful. And review… I'm even more grateful of that!

And who ever invented that Gimli's "dearest heart" –phrase: you are a genius! I borrow it, because it fits to Gimli so well. Even our rough Dwarf has his soft side, right? And I think it's only a good thing.

")…(" = Sindarin  
"/…/" = Quenya  
"{…{" = Khuzdul

* * *

**Chapter 6: Destruction**

* * *

**Same night,**  
**Main Hall of the Palace, Woodland Realm**

Legolas walked through the familiar corridors, heading to the Main Hall, when a well-known voice called to him: ")There you are at last. What took you so long?("

Legolas spun around, finding himself face to face with Lossaurion, his older brother. With a quick smile, Legolas embraced his brother hard. ")I was with Gimli, brother. I hope you didn't have to wait for long.("

Lossaurion looked at the direction where his younger brother had came from. ")So where is Gimli?("

"He has already retired. Our journey into the forest exhausted him, it seems," Legolas replied somewhat guiltily.

"So I assume you already feel better." Legolas nodded. Lossaurion looked at his brother carefully, and then smiled brightly. "Well, that is good, because I couldn't bear watching you sulking around while others celebrate. And in the case you didn't notice, you changed into Westron again," he smiled knowingly.

Legolas cursed softly, and then eyed his brother apologetically. "My apologies. It has stuck."

Lossaurion laughed, his clear voice ringing in the empty corridor. "It is all right, doesn't bother me. I just thought that you might want to know. But come now: we have much time to talk later, but our dear elder brother will definitely kill me if he finds out that I have kept you here, for he also wishes to speak with you. Our yesterday's conversation didn't seem to be very pleasing to him."

Legolas laughed, and together they started towards the Main Hall, where the others would be waiting for them. When they entered the Hall, it was already full of Elves, the air filled with music and laughter. Swiftly the two Princes made their way through the mass of Elves, trying to find their older brother, the Crown Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. For their credit, they found him soon enough.

"Tirifëa!" Legolas shouted happily.

"Ai, Las! Here at last. We already grew worried if you would come at all," the older Elf said. It seemed that he didn't even bother trying speaking Sindarin with his youngest brother. "Where is Gimli?" he asked somewhat disappointed.

"He went to bed already, but I am sure he will join us tomorrow," Legolas replied, inwardly pleased to notice that at least his brothers were in good terms with the Dwarf.

"Oh. Well, I am glad that he is well, then," Tirifëa said, looking at Legolas with narrowed eyes. "Are you well, little one? Shannai said that you were on a pretty bad mood on this morning."

Legolas tried hard not to grimace as his brother addressed him. "Please, Tirifëa, I am not _that_ young anymore. And yes, I am quite fine, thank you."

Lossaurion laughed, throwing one arm over Legolas shoulders. "You shall always be our Little Leaf, and you know that."

Legolas sighed, putting on a martyred face, surrendering to his fate. "As long as it stays only inside the family…"

"Oh yes, only Ada, and we worry not," Lossaurion laughed, hugging him tightly. "The others know well that they are not allowed to call you so: it is purely a family privilege."

"Rafél calls him thus, I have heard," Tirifëa said.

"Well, I guess he's family enough," Lossaurion decided.

Legolas smiled a little. There was a price to pay when you were the youngest of the family, especially when your older brothers were many centuries older than you… And indeed Rafél as well called him by such nicknames, but he was close enough to Legolas to do so – as well as the protectors of Legolas' brothers.

")My Lords,(" came a voice suddenly from behind them, and all the three Princes tuned to look at the newcomers. Legolas welcomed Rafél with a bright smile, clasping hands with his former protector. Then he turned to the other two arrivals.

")Aduifan, Mîrfanya, it is well to see you again. Where were you two hiding yesterday when I arrived? I didn't see you at all.("

")Well, my Prince, we had duties, and believe me, we were most hurt when we heard that you had arrived without our notice,(" answered Aduifan, who was Tirifëa's bodyguard – still, even if someone could have thought that the Crown Prince was old enough to take care of himself. But after all, being bodyguards was nowadays only an excuse for those Elves to stay close to their Princes all the time: constantly watching and protecting, yes, but mostly as a friends and advisors.

Beside Aduifan, Mîrfanya – who was the protector of Lossaurion – nodded solemnly. ")We would have been there if we would have known you were coming.("

")That is no excuse: entire Eryn Lasgalen knew Legolas and Gimli were coming,(" Lossaurion argued, his eyes sparkling.

Mîrfanya was just about to reply to that, when there suddenly came a knife flying across the air. Faster than an eye could see, Rafél moved and caught it, only few inches from Legolas' face.

"Oh, Rafél! You spoiled our fun," whined a blonde Elf who strode closer to them.

"Asthaldo!" shouted Legolas, delighted.

")I should have known…(" muttered Rafél darkly.

But before the elder Sinda could say another word about the dangerous game they were playing, Legolas had already dashed past him, and was embracing Asthaldo tightly. Over the Prince's shoulder, Asthaldo threw Rafél a cheeky grin, then turned his attention to the young Prince: "Legolas, it is so lovely to see you. But haven't you forgot something? Something quite short and gruff."

"Gimli?" Legolas asked, rising one eyebrow to Asthaldo before him.

"Correct," laughed Asthaldo, before pulling Legolas into a tight hug again. "Somehow you managed to avoid us yesterday," Asthaldo said, pouting, as they drew apart.

Legolas laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I think that wasn't a great loss, for my mood wasn't the best one, after I had spoken with my brothers" he said.

"Ah, so you have also heard of your father's latest adventures," joined another voice, and Thalión emerged from the crowd of Elves, his face serious.

Legolas nodded. "Yes, I heard of his current absence from Rafél, and I also spoke with my brothers yesterday."

"And today he fumed around, most of the day," Lossaurion quipped. Legolas glanced at him darkly.

"You did? Oh, poor Las! And even more so, poor Gimli," Asthaldo retorted, while absently putting his shorter front hair back behind his ear.

"Well, Gimli is quite fine," Legolas said.

"So _fine_ he isn't now here with us," Asthaldo stated with a risen eyebrow. Legolas merely grumbled, making the others smile.

"Now, enough of harassing him," Tirifëa said at length, his voice full of authority that was expected from the Crown Prince, of course. Others looked at him, and then burst into laughter. Legolas also smiled, knowing that none of these Elves meant to hurt him: it was just their way to welcome him back home.

"Umm, could I…" Asthaldo said quite innocently to Rafél, motioning towards his knife that the other Elf still kept in his hand. When Rafél looked at him rather coldly, Asthaldo smiled at him as sweetly as he could. "Please?"

"Rafél, it was merely a game. If you wouldn't have stepped in, I would have caught that blade myself," Legolas said to his old protector, trying to persuade him to let go of his old habits of protecting him.

Rafél had protected his Prince since Legolas had been only a small child, and protectiveness towards Legolas was only expected, even if Rafél formally wasn't Legolas' bodyguard anymore. Not since Legolas joined to Fellowship.

With a somewhat reluctant movement, Rafél gave Asthaldo back his knife. Asthaldo accepted this with a smile and nod to Legolas' direction.

The group continued to talk for a while, and then they split to their own ways, for the night was still young, and there were many friends and people to see during the night.

Much later that night laughter and happy voices still filled the air. If Legolas had been on a bad mood before, he certainly wasn't so anymore. Elves around him drank and talked, a fair music was played and nothing seemed to be wrong.

Yet Legolas felt that something was amiss. He shook his head, driving such thoughts away. The only thing that was wrong was that Gimli wasn't here, but in his rooms sleeping. But he rather gave his friend a sleep he needed than forced him to stay awake. There would be plenty of time for celebration later.

And of course there was another thing amiss: his father wasn't present either. He had spoken with his brothers yesterday, but they knew little of their father's recent moves. No one knew anything specific. It made him bad-tempered.

He sipped from his drink again, leaning against the cool pillar and closed his eyes. The feeling of dread increased even more. Something was getting closer…

")_Le Haran?_("

Legolas nearly jumped as a voice behind him spoke. ")_Thrénandu_(," he finally got out, turning around to face the other Elf. ")What can I do for you?("

")Give me a moment of your time, my Prince(," a captain of Eryn Lasgalen said quietly.

")Of course. What bothers you? _Le maien dele_.(" Legolas asked, wondering what ailed his long time tutor. _You cannot worry Thrénandu easily, so I wonder what is wrong_, he thought.

")Your father, the King. You have been asking about his whereabouts and –("

")You know something?(" Legolas asked sharply, his all senses suddenly alert. He hadn't found Thrénandu yesterday, for the Captain had been busy with his duties.

")I wish I would(," Thrénandu said apologetically, ")but if I knew I would be much calmer. I am in no place to watch your father's comings and goings, but I have grown worried. He travels with strangers and tells no one of his journeys… I merely wondered if you would know anything.("

")I wish I would Captain," Legolas repeated the other's previous words with a sad smile, " but I do not. But when my father returns, I shall speak with him – personally.("

")I'm clad. But, I will leave you now, for I as well have things to attend.("

Legolas nodded and watched Thrénandu disappear to the crowd. He sighed and rubbed his temple. The feeling was growing more persistent, nearly overpowering. Something _was_ approaching.

"Legolas?" _Again! This is becoming to be a habit to me_, Legolas thought as another voice startled him. Turning his head, he looked at the direction where the voice had come. Beside him stood Thalión, smiling to him carefully, knowing that Legolas didn't like to be surprised.

"Thalión. Already lost your cousin?" Legolas asked.

"Nay, but you can help me to find him, if you like. I'm sure you are much better in tracking him than I."

"Truly? How's so?" Legolas couldn't but ask.

Thalión smiled secretly. "You always were good tracking us up." He thought something for a moment, and then glanced at Legolas with somewhat proud smile. "So, you finally decided to stay in Westron as well?"

Legolas smiled. "Like I said to Lossaurion earlier, it has stuck."

"Ah. Well, we thought with my dear cousin that you would prefer more that tongue nowadays, after all you speak it all the time, probably without even noticing. You seem to be fond of speaking it."

"As he has grown fond of many other new things as well after the War," a new voice added. Both Elves turned to welcome the third, Thalión's cousin Asthaldo.

Legolas laughed at the comment, knowing that his friends referred to Gimli and his growing affection towards the mortals. "True, I have found many new interests for my fondness."

"But it is a good thing that you haven't forgot the old ones. We saw you shoot with the bow last time you visited here, and it seems that you haven't yet stopped practising," Asthaldo said with a laugh. "But we two can no longer match your skill, practice or no."

"But we can still linger in the memories of those times when Legolas was only a novice, and we were among those who taught him to survive in the darkness of Mirkwood," Thalión said, smiling at the memory thousands years old.

"But you never taught me how to use a bow," Legolas argued.

"No, that was left for those with more skill and knowledge how to treat spoiled Princelings," Asthaldo laughed. Legolas glared at him, and that wasn't a friendly glare. Thalión shook his head in amusement, making his braids sway.

"So, where is Dínnor?" Legolas asked.

"He is visiting the Galadhrim in Western Lórien. Khai and Ithika invited him there," Thalión answered.

"And why didn't you join him?" Legolas asked interested.

Asthaldo shrugged. "We were there for a moment. But then we reached the news – or the news reached us – that you were coming. Dínnor stayed still for a while, but he is coming soon, I am sure. He couldn't even imagine letting you pass without seeing you."

"So, how is he nowadays? You two have stayed in your styles pretty loyally I see," Legolas noted with a bright smile.

Thalión and Asthaldo had known Legolas since his youth. They also were ones of those very few who knew Legolas well and had befriended him through the ages. They had first met when Legolas was a novice and practised skills of a warrior, and they soon became friends and stayed that way during the years after. Legolas had learned a lot from them, for the Cousins had travelled far and wide during their long years on Middle-earth. They were both known warriors among their own kin, but not those of whom the great song told about. On the other hand that matter didn't seem to bother them too much; they liked to keep their privacy – though they always welcomed Legolas' company.

Because of their travels and what they had seen – or that's what they both said – they wore their hair differently than the other Elves. Many older Elves said it was total foolishness, but the Cousins thought it was merely a bracing change. Asthaldo had cut his front hair quite short, so it just reached behind his ears while the rest of his pale golden hair was as long as the Elven locks usually were. Thalión had a long silver hair, and only thing that was different in it was that the upper layer of hair was always braided to little braids, with some blue straps. He said it looked nice, and Legolas himself thought it looked quite good, because Thalión's hair was naturally very thick.

They also had a third cousin, Dínnor, who was right now in East Lórien visiting his friends. Dínnor was the oldest and most impulsive of the three, always ahead of the other two, and he also had been the first to chance his hairstyle different from the customs of the Elves. Last time Legolas had seen Dínnor, his whole head was braided in small braids – a style he had kept as long as Legolas remembered.

"Ah, old Dínnor," Thalión laughed, "he is quite much the old same himself."

Asthaldo looked around himself and smiled. "Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. Besides you," he added, turning his curious and a bit concerned gaze to Legolas. "What bothers you, )_mellon nîn_(?"

Legolas hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should tell to the cousins about his strange feelings. Finally he reached the decision, and sighed tiredly, rubbing his temple absently. "I have a strange feeling that something evil approaches. At first it was easy to block that feeling out, but now it is growing too persistent."

"And I thought that you are one of those who _aren't_ blessed with foresight," Asthaldo sneered.

Thalión silenced his cousin with one small movement, which would have went unnoticed to any other, but Legolas saw it, smiling to the silver haired Elf.

"I am not blessed with foresight, but maybe with foreknowledge," Legolas said.

"And you know how many times he has been right about these kind of things," Thalión reminded his cousin sternly.

The only answer Asthaldo had was a shrug. Finally he asked: "Are you sure? Because I think no one else here feels anything unusual. Maybe you just have become paranoid after being too much in the company of –" Asthaldo quickly bit his lip before he would say too much, but the mistake was already made.

Fury rose in Legolas' eyes, though there was also humour behind it. "Maybe I have been too much in the company of Mortals? And Noldor? So, I am not the only on who has heard those things said."

"You know?" Asthaldo squeaked. Though he wasn't among those who spoke of the bad influence, which the Mortals had upon their youngest Prince, he had heard about those things – and warned the ones speaking never to mention of their opinion of the matters to Legolas, or to his friends, _especially_ those who were mortals. But it seemed that Legolas was fully aware of those things said behind his back, and Asthaldo wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing.

"Oh, of course I know. I am a Prince, after all," Legolas smiled.

"Oh," Asthaldo said for return, and returned the smiled. "Maybe the influence is good, then, after all. We asked Shannai about Gimli, and though Shannai's opinion maybe isn't the most objective one, we formed quite a good picture about your Dwarven friend. Not that we could have formed that opinion from our own experiences with him, but Shannai has spent more time with him than we."

Legolas smiled and nodded. He was glad that at least his best friends accepted his friendship with Gimli, and weren't against his attempts to bring peace between the two races.

Suddenly, the threatening feeling returned, and Legolas shivered despite himself. "Something _is_ coming. I'm sure of that. And it isn't anything good."

There was a moment of silence. Then at length Thalión spoke, hesitantly. "We are only normal warriors, but we also know the darkness, and there has been more darkness than usual after your father began his trips. We have asked, but no one knows were he goes, what he does, or with whom. I know you are worried as well, and believe me, most of the Elves in Eryn Lasgalen share your worry."

Legolas barely heard. His mind stubbornly turned itself towards the feeling of darkness, and Legolas grew even more curious. He pushed himself away from the pillar, and took a step forward at the same time as his mind tried to reach that whatever was approaching. He distantly felt someone grab his hand and heard voices, but they were now too far away to be heard. He took another step towards the darkness, as well as he took another step in a real world. Then something happened. The darkness charged forward, and Legolas' only choice was to pull back from the onslaught, or to face it – which could have ended up badly on his side. He retreated.

Gasping with shock, Legolas returned to reality, blinking his eyes and trying to steady his breath. Thalión stood before him, face worried, and Asthaldo's grip upon his hand was turning painful. "It's alright. I'm here," Legolas said at last, and Asthaldo's hold loosened a little.

"What happened?" Thalión asked quietly. He barely finished when shouts started to fill the air.

It started from the halls nearer the main doors, a sound of many voices shouting and crashing sound of metal. Swiftly all the voices became one, great noise that filled the caverns, echoing from the stonewalls. The music froze and all the Elves within the Main Hall stopped in their tracks. The voices of the ones standing near the doors were scared and warning, and the ones deeper in the Hall were getting confused. But the warriors were already alert, sensing that something was amiss.

Legolas and his two companions started to push their way towards the main entrance, listening intently at the voices before them, trying to block out everything unimportant.

")_Lasto!_(" Thalión shouted suddenly. They all stopped, forcing the others around them to do the same, listening. There was the same cacophony of noise as before, but now they could easily identify a clinging of metal against another among it. Every Elven warrior on Arda knew what that meant. They were under an attack.

There was few Elves running towards them from the direction of the gates, and Legolas stopped them quickly. ")What is happening? _Pedo!_("

")_Yrch, Ernil nîn._ They are attacking! Many have already fallen before the gates and in the first hall, and we do not know anything of those who were outside. No warning came from them, or from the scouts.("

Legolas nodded swiftly, letting the others pass by to tell the other warriors and captains. _They have breached inside. That means they surprised the guards, or that their number is too great to be pushed back. But why the scouts did not sent a warning?_ Legolas' thoughts ran wildly as he estimated the situation. Finally he glanced at his two companions, who for once waited patiently by his side. One nod from the Prince, and they started to run again towards the gates.

They soon reached the doorway of the first hall and stopped dead in their tracks. Legolas had been right in one thing: the Orcs were too many to be pushed back. The Elves in the first hall were in desperate need of aid. From the doors that now stood open Orcs continuously poured in, like a swarming, black river.

The three warriors slowed down, using the shadows for their advantage, drawing their knives and readying themselves for attack. But they all knew they needed proper weapons. Their short knives weren't much good against the army of Orcs. Finally they were close enough to engage to battle, using a surprise as an advantage. Five Orcs were dead before the others even noticed the new attackers.

But as soon as the Orcs realised that their enemies got new reinforcements from the inside of the caves, they attacked the Elves with a rage that only those creatures possessed. Legolas and the two Cousins fought together with practised ease, years of training together controlling and guiding them, but the enemy was too many. When the situation became too difficult, they started to seek a way to join the other Elves, who didn't fare well themselves.

After a while Legolas made a decision, which was expected from him, but which he himself had always avoided: he gave an order. ")To me!(" All Elves in that hall rose their heads and started to gather together. Legolas had fought so many years that he knew what to do; the Elves of Woodland Realm wouldn't survive if they stayed scattered like this. They needed to stay closer to each other, to protect the ones who fought by their side. Slowly the Elves obeyed, bringing themselves closer to their Prince, fighting their way through the enemies' lines.

Legolas dodged a swing of a sword and brought his enemy down a second later. Watching around him he saw that Asthaldo had found a sword for himself from somewhere. Looking about him he soon found out where; the dead no longer needed a weapon. With sorrow and guilt he kneeled down, taking a sword from one of his dead kinsmen. Taking a deep breath, he rose up again, continuing the desperate battle.

The entire hall was swarming with Orcs, Goblins, and other evil creatures. Legolas had no idea where they were coming from. A moment ago there had been only a hundred of them… Now he didn't even dare to count their number. It seemed that the enemy had a never-ending number of soldiers. Elves, on the other hand…

"I think we need a plan," Asthaldo shouted from beside Legolas, slicing one Orc nearly in two pieces. Legolas met the fallow eyes and nodded. He didn't need Asthaldo's years and experiences to know that they wouldn't fare long like this. Asthaldo crashed into Legolas, and they swiftly changed places, Legolas' sword piercing the approaching enemy.

"I think that Asthaldo's right," Thalión added from his place.

Legolas watched his surroundings. "We can't let them to the Main Hall. From there, they get anywhere they want in the caves!"

Both cousins nodded hastily, while still fighting. Legolas tried to think of something that could be called a plan, but it seemed to be too hard at the moment, because if his thoughts strayed even a slightest, he would get at least three blades to his body in an instant. _How Aragorn always makes this look so easy? Forming a plan has never been one of my best sides, and in the midst of the battle like this… Where are you my brothers? Somewhere in the middle of the battle, I suppose. But by the Valar, wherever you are, Tirifëa, please hurry with your planning, and start to use your authority of the eldest Prince!_ Legolas stopped his musings, and focused upon the fight again, just avoiding a blade aimed to his head.

"Legolas, today!" Asthaldo shouted, glancing swiftly to the Prince, and then at his cousin fighting a little further way away from them.

"Why I am the one making a plan here? You two are far more experienced… )Accursed beast!(" Legolas swore, kicking an Orc away from him, and pulling the creature's foul knife out of his leg where it had embedded itself.

"Do we have a plan already?" Thalión asked as he came closer the other two again, already looking quite exhausted.

"I think Legolas' plan involves him dead, so he wouldn't have to make any decisions," Asthaldo said while killing another Orc, eyeing Legolas' wounded leg. "You can fight with that?" he asked seriously.

"Just watch after yourself," Legolas responded, already in motion once more.

"So, the plan…" Thalión tried again.

"Oh, forget the damn plan already! It seems we go just fine without it," Asthaldo shouted back. "Kill an Orc, dodge a blow of another, and return the favour by killing it!"

But they all knew they wouldn't go much farther without a plan. The Elves were driven back a bit by bit, or hacked down like a corn in the fields when the rain came down too hard. And now there were drums. Legolas shivered despite himself. Those drums… They brought back evil memories of Moria. Being an Elf, the memory was still fresh, and Legolas didn't wish to remember that one precise dark part of their journey with the Fellowship of the Ring. The beat of the drums increased and echoed in the tunnels, mixing with the sounds around them. Shouts of the Orcs, sound of blades against one another, cries of the dying Elves and Orcs, moans of the wounded and above all else, the drums. The Orcs got even wilder, drums exciting and encouraging them.

Legolas found his concentration slipping dangerously, and he turned to look for his friends. Thalión was engaged in the battle near to him, and Asthaldo was aiding one of the wounded Elves, other's blood staining his tunic. Legolas raised his sword again, trying to fight his way to Thalión's side. He knew that alone an Elf would be an easy kill for an army of Orcs.

An instinct warned Legolas just before he was hit on the back of his neck. His vision swimming, he was sent to the ground. A moment later a clawed hand buried itself to his hair, twisting his head back so he could see his enemy. A scarred Uruk-hai stared down at him, baring his sharp teeth in something akin to a grin. Legolas froze, readying himself, but suddenly his enemy's leering face wasn't on its place anymore, a gush of black blood falling upon Legolas. Before Legolas could make another move, there was a strong hand pulling him up, and as he wiped his enemy's blood from his face and opened his eyes, he met Rafél's brown eyes.

Relief swept over Legolas, and he quickly nodded to other Elf, smiling. "I am fine," he assured.

"I can see that," Rafél said, a sharp remark in his voice making Legolas wince. After all, this was his protector and mentor, and if Rafél was displeased, it meant that Legolas had made a mistake. _Several mistakes during this battle, actually_, Legolas praised himself inwardly. With a nod, Legolas welcomed the silent rebuke, and then found his sword again, knowing that he would hear of his lapses after the fight was over: a battlefield wasn't a good place to start to go over the made mistakes.

Thalión emerged himself from the battle, nodding briefly to Rafél, and then checked Legolas carefully. "Is he –"

"Just fine. Keep fighting," Rafél said grimly, rising his own Elven blade, and swept it through an approaching Orc gracefully. Soon they were all fighting back against another, deadly dance creating a circle of dead Orcs around them.

"I just hate it when you are right about there kind of things! Next time, forecast something nice and peaceful instead of full chaos!" Thalión shouted, docking down and letting Legolas pierce an attacking Goblin.

"So now this is my fault?" Legolas laughed back, killing another Orc and pressing his back firmly to Thalión's, seeking support and strength from the older Elf.

Thalión laughed rather sarcastically. "You are the one with foreknowledge, remember? Have you seen –"

"Asthaldo? No," Legolas said, his voice getting a little more worried.

"I saw him," Rafél said beside them, "just a moment ago. He was still in one peace and fighting, but if we remain like this a bit longer, I'm afraid that we shall not remain thus."

Thalión nodded, his powder blue eyes full of worry that didn't belong there. "Then I suggest that we form some king of a plan –" Abruptly a horn was blown several times deeper in the caves, and it was a signal that they needed. Someone seemingly had a plan, for the forces of Woodland Realm were called to the second hall. Quickly as possible the warriors pulled back, protecting each other in the process. But it still took time for everyone to get there, and some never made it, Legolas noticed sadly. As soon as Thalión and Legolas arrived to the hall, Asthaldo located them, Shannai close behind.

"Nice mess we have here, aye?" Shannai said rather cheerfully, hiding his fear well.

"Don't say that, for you sound just like a Dwarf," Asthaldo commented. The others laughed, because that phrase was just like one of those Gimli used in many occasions and especially in the situations like this. Suddenly Legolas froze. "What is it? Are you not well? Is your leg giving you trouble?" Asthaldo asked quickly.

"No, but… By Valar! I have completely forgotten Gimli! He's still in my rooms –"

"Which are quite deep in the caves. Perhaps he will be able to snore in peace until the battle is over," Thalión tried to sound like convincing, but it didn't help Legolas.

"I must go to him! He doesn't know the palace well enough to stumble around in the middle of a fight…"

"Right. So we sent someone to warn him before –" Asthaldo froze, but he wasn't alone. The drumming had changed and all the Elves fell silent, as well as the Orcs. Then suddenly the Orcs started to screech again, filling the caverns with their war cries.

"What's going on?" Shannai asked quietly.

"I wish I knew," Thalión answered, when no one else did. Then he turned to his cousin: "Who took the command? We heard the horn-calls."

"Tirifëa, as far as I know. But maybe we should get Legolas into a more safer place; he's a Prince, after all."

"But aren't his brothers fighting, then?" Rafél asked, weighting his – or rather his Prince's – options.

"I think Thrénandu and the other captains are trying to take the command, but it will be a fine match before our older Princes give up of a change to fight," Shannai said. "But it is enough that they are in the midst of a battle. Asthaldo is right: we should get Legolas to a safer place. He is wounded, after all."

To everyone's surprise there was no answer for that from the young Prince. They all turned alarmed, for a moment fearing that Legolas had made up his mind and left to search Gimli, but no: the archer stood on his place like rooted, staring at the direction of the shouting Orcs, eyes filled with horror. His four companions turned at the direction where he was staring, puzzled.

"Legolas, what is it? And if you dare to give me bad news again –" Asthaldo said, suddenly noticing that he was whispering.

For a moment, the Prince said nothing, but the fear in his eyes betrayed his emotions. Then, making the Elves near to him jump, he cried with fear-filled voice: " )_Dae a ruin!_("

"A Balrog," Shannai whispered barely audibly, feeling the fear gather around him in the others as well.

"What did you just say about 'bad news'?" Thalión said to his cousin, who as a response only stared at the hallway.

Slowly, nearly agonisingly so, the shadow approached. The Orcs went wild, running around and shouting with their foul tongue, while the Elves pulled back, every one of them feeling the presence of the dark demon now.

And so it came, the Shadow and the Flame, the great servant of Morgoth. Fire came up and swarmed around it, heat rising quickly. The very presence and sight of the Balrog was enough for some Elves, whose cries of despair filled the air.

Legolas had never believed that he would be forced to meet this demon again, thinking that Gandalf had killed the last one years ago in the darkness called Moria. But now it seemed that he had been wrong: there was yet another. And this time they had no Wizard for their aid. Slowly Legolas gathered himself, forcing his eyes to meet their greatest enemy. _At least I can die fighting, and maybe earn my place in great songs, if any songs will be made of this battle._ With these thoughts he attacked, knowing that running away was only another, bad option. He would rather stand against the enemy and defend the ones he loved and his home, even if it would only know a swifter death; even if he would run away now, he would most likely die eventually, because the enemy was too great and the Orcs too many. Distantly he heard Rafél shout his name, knowing that _if_ he survived, his former protector would lecture him long and thoroughly of his foolishness.

When the Prince of Woodland Realm crushed to the line of Orcs, the shouts around him told that he was not alone. There were others fighting with him, the Elves of former Mirkwood standing in one more desperate battle against the dark. And every one of them knew that tonight they could all die.

**

* * *

**

Gimli woke up at some time of the night. He had no idea what had woke him, and one glance around the room told him that his Elven friend hadn't came back yet. With a shrug he turned to his other side, trying to fall asleep again. But then he heard something, and rose to sit up in his bed. _Like distant drums_, he thought himself. _What are those silly Elves up to? Can't they understand that some rational creatures sleep at this time of the night? Or is it already a morning? No, it is still night, for Legolas hasn't arrived yet to wake me._ Grumbling to himself, he laid down again. For a moment everything was nice and quiet, but then it was there again.

_Doom… Doom… Doom, boom, boom…_

_Lovely! Just what I need. I can already feel a headache coming_, Gimli swore quietly at Dwarvish and sat up again. The sound of drums reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite remember… _Doom…_ After that one _doom_ there was screams and shouts, and then Gimli remembered, shivering slightly.

_Moria. Of all the places on and under Middle-earth, why does everything always remind me of_ that _place?_ Gimli stood up, shaking himself all over and walking to the door, opening it and stepping out – in the process nearly getting run over by group of Elves. _Heavily armed group of Elves in a bit of a hurry_, Gimli added to himself as he pulled himself up from the floor where he had just stumbled in an attempt to avoid collision with the Elves. _What is going on?_ He went to the door again, and this time he peered out slowly, watching out to the corridor distrustfully. He waited for a moment, straining his senses, and finally he heard the sounds again. Drums, shouts, sound of metal as it clang together with something else, more voices. _Every warrior who has ever raised a blade knows what those sounds mean: a battle! But the sounds come from the inside, so how is that possible? Better go and see myself. Never trust the Elves to take care of the business._ Although he might have thought that way, he was growing worried. One glance to the room and he knew that if there indeed was a battle raging in the halls of Woodland Realm, his Elven companion was weaponless. Of course Legolas always had a knife or two with him, but in the real battle they weren't good enough.

Quickly as possible, aided by the years of experience, the Dwarf put on his armour and clothes, grabbing his axes from where he had laid them last evening. After he had found all the five and hung them down to their right places, he felt quite ready. Stepping towards the door, he suddenly noticed Legolas' white knives upon the Elf's bed. Swiftly Gimli strode to his friend's bed, and took the knives, thinking that he could give them to the Elf when he would find him. He also thought seeking out his friend's bow, but he had no time for that: he could already hear the shouts clearly, which meant their origins were coming closer. But before Gimli could leave he remembered yet one thing. He went to his gear and searched for a moment, and found at last what he was looking for: an Elven knife. A gift from Legolas some years ago. Though Gimli didn't say it to his friend, he appreciated the gift greatly and kept it always with him, within an easy reach.

Now Gimli was ready and he didn't waste more time. He ran out of the door and along the corridor to the direction of the Main Hall, where he knew his friend was supposed to be. Of course things might have changed after the battle began, but it was a good place to start. _If there truly is a battle going on_, Gimli thought, even if a theory of 'no battle' didn't really convince him. And when he arrived to the first slightly bigger hall, he needed no more guessing about the matters.

To his terror there was Orcs all over the place. At any other time Gimli would have taken an opportunity like this to hack Orcs to pieces with immense delight, but in this situation he hoped the very opposite. There was Orcs everywhere, and the few Elves fighting them were in terrible inconvenience to defend themselves. Anger flared inside the Dwarf, and with a terrible war cry he crushed into the battle, his axe bringing death all around him. He let the instincts guide him, and soon the Orcs saw that it was better to stay far away from this new fighter.

Gimli slowed himself, inching closer to the few gathering Elves, glaring at the Orcs darkly. The foul creatures returned his gaze, their voices full of loath and malice as they shouted to the defenders with their foul tongue. Gimli let his racing heart calm a bit, and then took a swift look to his surroundings. There was dead Orcs laying practically everywhere where he turned his eyes, and to his sorrow there were also many Elven warriors who would never walk under the stars and trees again. At least not in this world. And when he saw the fallen Elves, his thoughts turned to Legolas. Quickly directing his thoughts elsewhere, he turned to the Elves next to him. "What is happening here? Where did these foul beasts come from?" The Elves seemed shocked, but not by his question. _Maybe they are as ignorant of the situation as I am_, Gimli thought sadly, but one of the Elves broke that illusion quickly.

"No one seems to know where they came from. Or their exact number, either. But they got inside the caves some time ago, and after that no one has been able to stop them. The battle is greater in the upper halls near the main entrance. We haven't been there, and our information isn't much," the Elf said apologetically, and Gimli nodded, all the time keeping an eye upon the Orcs. The dark creatures where moving slowly around, shouting taunts to the Elves.

Gimli weighed his options carefully, and finally he turned to speak to the Elves: "Well, I must find Prince Legolas, and knowing him as I do, he is where the battle is hardest. So, I must leave you now. Will you –"

"We shall be just fine, Master Dwarf. Now go, and may the grace of the Valar protect you and give you speed," one of the Elves said, smiling faintly. Gimli only nodded and then started to the direction of the Main Hall. He would probably never grow to know what exactly to expect from Elves, for they kept surprising him. On the other hand he hadn't just yet realised how much the Elves of Eryn Lasgalen loved their youngest Prince. And by that love they slowly started to accept Gimli's presence among themselves. But right now wasn't the best time to ponder such things, so Gimli sped up his steps, all the time alert for enemies, and hoping he would come in time to find his Elf in one piece.

Being a Dwarf, Gimli had quickly learned the twists and turns of the caves Woodland Realm, and he knew precisely where he was heading. He would reach the Main Hall swiftly with this pace _If_ no problem would emerge itself. But it seemed that tonight fate wasn't perfectly at his side, for trouble did come; after a few turns, Gimli found himself in the middle of a group of Orcs.

No one knew who was taken more by surprise, but Gimli recovered first. Before the Orcs could ever raise their weapons, the Dwarf's axe was already bringing death among them. But the rest of the Orcs had time enough to evaluate the situation, and soon Gimli found himself hard pressed by his enemies. _This won't do! By Durin's Beard, I'm in a hurry, and these stinking creatures are standing on my way! But not for long, if it is up to me! Soon, my howling friends, you shall learn of the fury of a Dwarf and an Elf-friend!_ With that in his mind Gimli pushed himself towards his enemies, practically hacking his way through those standing on his path. "{_Khazâd-aimênu!_{" he shouted, his voice ringing in the walls.

Of the rest of the way to the Main Hall Gimli remembered very little: there was Orcs swarming all around him, and only seldom he countered Elves. When he reached the first of the bigger halls on his way, he stopped for a minute, giving his aching hands a moment to recover. He watched the battle before him, dread rising inside of him. He was now on the edge of the fight, still unnoticed, and he was able to observe the situation quite well. There was more fallen Elves in here, but here the battle was also more fervent. Orcs had lost many among themselves, but it didn't seem to bother the attackers, who increased in number every moment: or that it seemed. Where one fell, two came to meet the defenders.

Gimli also started to understand that finding his friend would be a rather difficult task. There was too large area to search for one Dwarf. Gimli sighed as he felt the first wave of despair to take a hold of him. _Legolas, where are you, my friend? And you had better be standing when I find you, because if you are not, you shall see that all the Orcs of Middle-earth are more pleasant to be faced than my treatment._

So Gimli readied himself, and tried to make a decision of where to head next. _If I would be that pointy-eared creature, where would I go? Most likely to meet the enemy head-on, though it maybe wouldn't be the wisest thing to do… But being Legolas means doing irrational things, and he is quite good at it... So, most likely the Elf is where there is highest amount of enemies, and that means near the main entrance, which is pretty close the Main Hall._

Having made his decision, the Dwarf pulled off from the wall where he had been leaning against it, and started to travel swiftly towards the first halls. He killed a few enemies when they tried to block his way, but kept his mind in the thought of finding his friend, and so he didn't engage in the battle further.

When he was near the third hall from the main entrance, something changed in the battle. He was just about to reach the huge doorway to the third hall, when dozens of Elves came running towards him, trying to get away from the hall before him. Gimli soon found himself fighting to stay upright: the Elves that usually were very aware of their surroundings didn't even seem to notice Gimli as they dashed by.

Suddenly an Elf crushed bodily to Gimli and they both fell to the ground. Gimli cursed something under his breath and struggled to get up when he noticed he was staring to the wide light green eyes of Shannai. "Gimli! Oh, by the eternal light of Elbereth, you are alive! We were so worried about you but none could to be sent to you –"

"Oh, quiet you!" Gimli practically shouted. "Where is Legolas? I must find him at once."

Shannai was startled from Gimli's outburst, but soon collected himself. "Come, we must go with the others. Someone ordered everyone to back off, though I'm not sure if the one giving the order was truly in order. But so many are dead, so I can't really be sure who is in the lead right now and –"

Gimli tried to force himself not to strangle the Elf in that place. "Legolas. Where is he? I must go to him!"

"You can't. And he's coming at any moment. I lost him from my sight at some point of the retreat, but I'm quite certain that retreat wasn't the first thing in his mind at the moment..."

_Brilliant. All I need is a hysteric Elf who doesn't make any sense. But at least he saw Legolas some time ago, so he must be close._ "Where did you see him last time? Quickly now, we don't have all day!" Gimli was going to loose his patience soon.

"In the second hall, but no-one is there now – only the dead…" Shannai fell oddly silent, paling even more, shuddering slightly. For a moment Gimli thought he should get the Elf to safety, but then his concern for Legolas won. He started to move around Shannai, but the other grabbed his hand in instant. "We can't go there! Everyone else is retreating! Come, we must get out of here, this place is becoming a death trap: Orcs are swarming in from every entrance they can find –"

"I must find Legolas first," Gimli said softly, prying the Elf to let go of him.

"You can't go there!" Shannai nearly screamed. "You shall be killed!"

"But if my Elf is there, and I must go to him. Now get yourself on the move and out of here. I will be following you in no time – with Legolas."

"You are mad. You cannot go there!" Shannai cried in vain as Gimli started to work his way past the Elves who were still trying to get away from the hall.

")_Nai a Vala nauvar aselyë_,(" Shannai whispered silently, watching Gimli disappear to the mass of Elves and Orcs.

"Shannai!"

Shannai blinked, looking around dazed. He was sure someone had just called his name.

"Shannai! Don't just sit there! Get up, you fool!" said someone, grabbing Shannai forcefully from the shoulders, yanking him up. Only then Shannai realised who it was.

"Thalión! I just saw Gimli!" Shannai exclaimed, trying to stop the other Elf's attempts to move him to the same direction with the running Elves.

"Come there is no time – You saw whom?"

"Gimli. I saw him. He was looking for Legolas," Shannai explained hurriedly. "He went to find Legolas." He looked desperately at the direction where Gimli had disappeared.

"He went to find Legolas…" Thalión echoed, his eyes widening with horror as he realised where the Dwarf had gone.

Shannai nodded. "I tried to stop him, but he didn't listen…"

"Has Legolas already come from the third hall?" Shannai shook his head. Thalión cursed. "Get out of here. I will find the Dwarf – and Legolas," he added as an afterthought. "Get out!" he shouted to Shannai, as he dashed to the direction of the third hall.

Shannai stood there, rooted, for a long while, uncertain what to do. But finally he turned and ran to the same direction with the other Elves, knowing he couldn't help his friends anymore.

When Gimli finally reached the third hall, there were very little on-comers any more. And not too soon he understood why. He should have understood it earlier, he thought later: Elves didn't just run away from the enemy, it wasn't their way to fight. The Elves he had seen running had been afraid of something, and Gimli should have had noticed that. But he hadn't, because the only thing in his mind had been how he would reach Legolas. It proved to bee a fatal mistake, as he later noticed.

The second hall beyond the hall where Gimli now stood was in flames, and as he watched, the flames spread steadily across the third as well. On the floor laid dead Elves and Orcs. There were also few Trolls and other creatures of darkness, but they were primarily Orcs and Goblins. Sadness swept through Gimli, for he recognised many of the dead Elves who now lay on the cold stone, slowly burning to ashes. But the sadness didn't last long. Because as soon as Gimli walked towards the next high doorway, his heart nearly stopped. Right then Shannai's warnings made sense to him. In the other end of the hall stood a demon that Gimli wasn't yet ready to face, and he wondered if he would ever be. _A Balrog. Could this go any worse?_ Gimli thought in growing desperation.

There wasn't many Orcs here, but they really weren't needed. One Balrog was quite enough. Few remaining Elves were running in the demons' feet, trying to stay alive a moment longer, but one by one the Flame and the Shadow brought them down. Gimli wanted to collapse, to disappear, but then he saw what he had sought for so long: Legolas. The Elf was among those few who still desperately tried to fight the demon of the dark, without success. One after another the Elves fell, like a dry grass before the cutter. _Why won't they run, like the others? Legolas, run, you fool of an Elf! This enemy is not yours to overcome!_ But then the truth dawned to the Dwarf: if the Elves would run, the Balrog would merely follow and kill them while their attempt to escape– they had no other choice but to fight.

One more Elf was brought down, and Gimli felt himself shudder. _It could have been Legolas. I must do something, before they all fall!_ At the same time as his mind tried to form some kind of a plan, his friend kneeled beside his fallen kinsman. For a moment Gimli hoped that his friend would just stay still and maybe escape the monster's attention, but he knew it would not happen: Legolas never took it lightly when anyone of his kin was killed. And even if the killer was something far beyond the Elf's grasp… "Legolas!" With a desperate cry Gimli tried to draw his friends attention to himself, hoping to prevent him from doing anything rash.

And it did indeed work, for Legolas raised his head and noticed the Dwarf in the other end of the hall. Gimli could nearly feel his friend's relief as their eyes met. _So I wasn't the only one worrying, after all_, Gimli smiled inwardly. But that smile soon faded. He had to get them out of here. "/_Túle!_/" Gimli shouted, the High-elven tongue sounding rough and misplaced upon his tongue, but he didn't care. It was enough to drive Legolas into action. The flames engulfed the last one of the other Elves, and Legolas swiftly turned towards his friend, racing through the hall with all his speed, trying to avoid the flames playing around him. But it was not enough.

The evil whip of the Balrog rose to the air and came down with a loud crack, hitting to its target. Legolas screamed, falling to the ground, only distantly hearing Gimli shout his name as the agonising pain drove over him. It was as though his back was on fire, and the pain only grew as time passed until it was all he felt. After some time – Legolas couldn't tell if it was only seconds or minutes – he blacked out while still whimpering in pain.

In the meanwhile, Gimli could only watch as his best and dearest friend fell before the demon of the ancient world. When he heard Legolas' scream of pain, his vision turned red. Legolas had _never_ screamed while their friendship had lasted, and Gimli was about to make sure he wouldn't have to hear that sound again. Shouting his friend's name he raced forward, trying to reach Legolas in time. The Balrog had stopped for a moment, seeking for its next prey. That gave Gimli the precious seconds he needed to reach his friend.

The Dwarf knelt beside his fallen companion, touching him gently, trying to coax the Elf into reaction. The only answer was those quiet whimpers that came from his friend even as he was unconscious, and Legolas' entire body thrashed in undeniable pain. Gimli swallowed slowly, trying to observe the situation. Legolas had countless bruises and wounds all over his body, but the worst was his back: the cruel whip had burned his skin even through the fabric of his tunic, and the skin had burned black and bloody welts ran over his entire backside. Gimli gave the Balrog a dark look, but knew that there was no way he could avenge his friend's fate. Their only hope was now to get out of the caves, to the other Elves.

_But if I move, the Balrog will notice me, and then I can say goodbye to this world. But there must be a way… there must be…_

As an answer to his prayers, a shout reached his ears. "Gimli, run! Take him out of here!"

_Thalión…_ Gimli looked at the older Elf, who stood in the middle of the doorway of the hall. Without waiting for Gimli's response, Thalión rose the bow in his hand – a weapon that he had found during the battle – took aim, and sent an arrow flying towards the Balrog. Every living, thinking and sane creature upon earth would have known that shooting arrows at a Balrog wouldn't be successful, but harming the creature wasn't what Thalión was trying. After a few shots, he had the dark demon's undivided attention, and after he was sure that the monster was enraged enough, Thalión dashed away, the Balrog after him.

Gimli sat there, watching, as Thalión led the demon away from them, awe filling him. But then a ragged moan from Legolas rose him from his thoughts. _You will not die for nothing, Thalión my friend. I shall take Legolas to safety, and so your death shall be a one with meaning._ Slowly he gathered the Sinda Prince to his arms, feeling a pang of guilt run through him as Legolas moaned again in agony. But he had to get Legolas away from the enemy's reach.

Gimli waited as long as he dared, making sure that no enemies were around and then he moved to find one of the smaller corridors that would lead out of the caves. Slowly he walked, listening intently, hoping that he would not run into Orcs, because Legolas was in no condition to be tossed around, and he himself wasn't able to fight with his much taller friend in his arms.

The sounds of distress coming from Legolas were enough to drive Gimli mad with fear, worry and wrath, and he didn't know which emotion to soothe first. "Hold on, Las. It will be over soon. Just hold on a little longer, my brave Elven warrior."

After a while that felt like an eternity, they came out to the fresh night air, or at least fresh when it was compared to the smoky air of the caverns. But Gimli soon noticed that things weren't well even up here. Many trees were on fire, and the signs of Orcs' passing were evident. But Gimli would be fully content if the Orcs would stay away for now, because he had no intention to fight them right then.

Gimli laid Legolas gently to the cool grass beside a broken fountain, trying to position the Elf as comfortable as possible. That was quite impossible task at the moment, but he did his best. Legolas moaned brokenly, whispering something and then he fell silent again, pained tremors still running through his abused body.

Gimli ripped a piece of fabric from his tunic and dipped it to the cool water of the fountain, bringing it to the Elf's face and wiping of the blood and dirt that marred the fair features. Legolas groaned quietly and without a warning the blue eyes opened. Gimli nearly fell back in surprise, but collected himself swiftly.

"Gimli?" the Elf's voice was full of uncertainty and pain, and one arm reached towards the Dwarf as if trying if he was really there. Gimli took Legolas' hand in his owns, feeling the shudders of the others body.

"It is I. Rest for a while, you got a pretty bad hit down there." _To put it mildly_, Gimli added to himself. "As soon as you feel better we should go and try to find the others. I think there weren't too many of your people who wanted to stay down there…"

"Gimli, I'm not sure if I… can go on…" There were tears in Legolas' eyes, his pain showing clearly. "It's too much. I can't…"

"Hush now, dearest heart. Rest. I shall take care of you," Gimli said, trying to soothe the thrashing Elf. The last thing he wanted to see was Legolas crying, but here he was, with severely hurt Elf beside him, no idea where he was, and enemies possibly right behind the corner. What was he supposed to do?

Suddenly there came a sound near to them from the forest. For a moment Gimli thought that the other Elves had found them, and he stood up to greet them. But the ones who emerged themselves from the forest weren't Elves – at least not any more. Gimli found himself eye to eye with big Orcs, and at least a part of them were Uruk-hai. _Just my luck_, Gimli swore in his mind, raising his axe in instant.

The enemies watched them silently, their noses sniffing the air. Gimli stood between them and Legolas, trying somehow to block the fallen Elf from view. "Alright, you stinking rats! Show me what you've got! Come on!" he challenged, swinging his axe, and got a response immediately.

The enemies attacked with great speed, and for the first time during this night Gimli was truly worried of his success against these monsters. He was already tired, and then there was Legolas who had to be protected. _Keep going. One at the time, and it will be just fine. I can't fall now. For Legolas' sake…_ But only thoughts were not enough to win these creatures. Even if Gimli was able to bring few of them down, they were too many.

More Orcs came from the forest, and Gimli knew he was done. As soon as the thought left his mind, a club hit his head and he fell to the ground, groaning gruffly.

"Gimli!"

The alarmed shout from the Elf made Gimli look up to his friend. Legolas still lay on the ground, eyes dark with pain and tears on his cheeks. It was clear that the Elf was struggling to get up, but the pain got better of him.

That sight in his mind Gimli rose, once again starting the desperate fight he was not going to win: the Uruks would make sure of that. Being more skilled fighters that the other Orcs, the Uruk-hai attacked Gimli from all sides, bringing the Dwarf down without mercy. Gimli fought with all his might, embedding his axe with such a force to one of his enemies that it seemed to stick there. In desperation, Gimli searched for another weapon: but he had already spent all his axes in this battle, and they lay scattered around in dead enemies. The Orcs yelled encouraged, getting closer to him. Then suddenly Gimli remembered his Elven knife, and drew it from its sheath, making the Orcs back away hissing.

But one small knife was a minor weapon against Uruk-hai.

With final blow from one great Uruk, Gimli fell to the ground, world spinning around him. The last thing he saw was Legolas shouting his name with utter despair, fighting his captors while he was dragged away, and then all around Gimli went black.

**

* * *

**

Tirifëa emerged from a small cave entrance, breathing the night air deep into his lungs as his warriors spread out around him. With Aduifan right behind him, he walked a little further away from the entrance, staring at the darkness. A moment later Lossaurion walked to his side, and they exchanged a small smile.

")_Ernil nîn…_(" came a hesitating voice from behind them.

Both Princes turned around, finding Rafél standing there. ")What is it? Have you some news?(" Tirifëa asked.

")We are quite safe here as far as our scouts can tell, but it would be safer to move little further into the forest,(" Rafél said. Tirifëa nodded. ")We are not sure yet how many have got out of the caves, but one great group is moving towards Misty Mountains. Some who met this group said that they are trying to reach Imladris, and then… the Grey Havens.("

Lossaurion sighed, and Tirifëa turned to look to the west. ")Very well. Who is leading them?("

Rafél laughed somewhat bitterly. ")No-one who would know the way properly. But I can easily understand why they have made a decision to leave…("

")Then we should sent someone to show them a way,(" Mîrfanya put in, concern written all over his face. ")The are most likely all wounded and tired, and have very little food with them.("

Tirifëa nodded. Then he looked at Rafél again. ")You know the way over the mountains. Take dozen of well-faring warriors you can find, and some food and bandages, and go after that group. Lead them to Imladris.("

")But my Lord –(" Rafél argued, but was given no chance.

")Please Rafél. I have faith in you,(" Tirifëa begged him, but his tone told Rafél that the Prince had made his decision.

With a stiff bow, Rafél saluted, and left the four Elves, gathering the group and supplies.

")Gather all the Elves we can find, and make them move deeper into the forest,(" Tirifëa commanded, and the Elves around put the message forward. ")We can do nothing more here,(" Tirifëa whispered, and then turned towards the dark line of trees, knowing the others would follow.

**

* * *

**

Shannai sat high in a tree, staring at the darkness. For a long time, he didn't feel even a spark of joy inside himself. It was unnatural to him. But he understood well why he felt like he did. So many were dead. So much was gone. And what was about to come… He sighed silently, gazing up to the stars. Even their light seemed cold and distant tonight.

Shannai felt someone approach him, and he turned to meet Asthaldo as the other climbed to join him. Soon after him followed Thrénandu, who look extremely weary. Shannai gave the two a quick smile, nodding his head in acknowledgement. They all knew that now was not the time for compliments. ")How are the thing going down there?(" Shannai asked at length.

" )They could go better, but I think I should be happy for what I've got done(," Thrénandu said quietly.

The fight had ended few hours ago, and after that there had been little to do. Only a few Elves had come to join those who were already gathered together, their news bringing even less hope for others.

"Some have crossed Anduin and are trying to pass over the Misty Mountains to reach Imladris and the Grey Havens," Asthaldo informed them. Thrénandu gave Asthaldo strange look, because of his decision of the spoken language. He had never understood the Cousins' need to speak Westron. Shannai also glanced at the Sinda, but understood better than Thrénandu. Shannai himself spoke Westron much, and especially with Legolas…

"Any news of Legolas and Gimli?"

Asthaldo shook his head. "No. I have heard that Legolas' brothers have gathered a great number of Elves together a little north from here. But Legolas is not with them, of that I am sure. There were also some prisoners taken–"

" )And they are most likely already dead. As are all in the caverns and outside them. Our loss has been great(," Thrénandu added, refusing to use Westron by habit, or because of the moment.

"So there is no news of the King?" Shannai asked, guessing what the answer would be.

Thrénandu shook his head. " )No.("

Shannai sighed again. ")We should send for help. Right now we are too weak to defend ourselves if the Orcs return.("

")I'm sure _Yrch_ are not our greatest trouble(," Asthaldo said quietly. They all shuddered at the memory of the Balrog. "What do you suggest," Asthaldo said, lapsing again to Westron.

"We could ask aid from the Men of Rohan. The Dwarves in the north and the Men of Esgaroth may have troubles on their own of these attackers, so maybe we should ask for help from a little further. I'm sure that King Éomer will help us."

"So you have thought of this, then?" Thrénandu asked, giving up for the other two in the language contest.

Shannai merely smiled ironically. "I've had naught to do for the last few hours. I think it is our best chance."

Asthaldo nodded. "I may go, and take few others with me. If that was all, I go to find others to accompany me." Without another word he left, disappearing from view.

Shannai looked after him puzzled. Then he remembered, and all hope in his mind died again. "So Thalión hasn't been found yet?"

Thrénandu only nodded. He spoke only after a while. "It's easier for Asthaldo like this. Finding Thalión dead is not what he wishes to do right now. So going to Rohan is better that seeking vengeance or mulling in sadness."

"But he could also stay here, waiting for Dínnor to return…"

"And then face his eldest cousin and tell him that he lost Thalión in the battle?"

Shannai didn't answer to this. _It will be such a shock for Dínnor…_ "You gave up rather easily to my plan. Was it only to occupy Asthaldo, then?"

"Maybe you are finally starting to behave like an adult, and with that comes an ability to form working plans. And I am sure that the Prince's would agree with your plan – and will when they hear of it." Smiling to the much younger Elf, Thrénandu also left Shannai to see how Asthaldo fared.

_Well, I guess you know best, Thrénandu, because you have trained all the Princes of Mirkwood, after all. At times like this, they look upon you for advice_, Shannai thought.

Shannai, alone again, let his gaze slowly turn towards the direction of the caverns. His heart ached for the thought of Thalión's death. Of course nothing was certain, but they all knew that if Thalión would be alive, he would have already made his way here. And then there was Legolas and Gimli. Shannai felt his heart sink even more. He should have gone with Gimli, but his fears had got better of him. And he should have gone with Thalión, but again, he had found no courage. He could only admire those friends' courage and bond. Gimli had been ready to face death to find his friend. Thalión… was pretty much the same, even if his loyalty to Legolas ran on an entirely another stage than Gimli's. Shannai hoped that one day he could be able to do the same, to possess that same courage for the sake of others.

Slowly in the east the sun rose to the sky, but with it came no hope.

**

* * *

**

"Hurry, you scumbags! The Bright Face is rising, and we have a good way to travel!" one of the Orcs shouted, swinging his blade before him. "Check if he has anything valuable, and then dump him into a river! We have no need to carry him around further." The Orc walked to the still figure on the ground and poked him with his weapon.

Gimli grunted, but didn't wake.

One of the Orcs hurried to the unconscious Dwarf, probably hoping to find some diamonds or something else from his pockets. With a screech, it pulled its hand back. "Ugh! It has Elvish weapons. Just dump it to the river, and let's be rid of it!" the Orc spat onto Gimli, continuing to curse with its own foul language.

One of the other Orcs came forward, checking the Dwarf roughly. "Arg, what's this? A shining jewel!" it shouted as it spotted something glittering around Dwarf's neck. It pulled out the necklace, and fingered it greedily, but shouted suddenly in pain as the green stone of the necklace flashed angrily at the dark creatures touch. The Orc dropped the jewel, holding its hand as if it would have been burnt. "Cursed Elven jewels! Dump it away! We have to keep going."

The others shouted in agreement, and then two bigger Orcs took Gimli and heaved him unceremoniously into the river, which was already filled with all kind of branches and debris.

Laughing, the Orcs turned away as the first rays of the sun found their way through the leaves. And then all was silent.

**

* * *

**

Rafél stopped in his tracks and stepped aside from the narrow path that led up to the Misty Mountains, letting the other pass him. His gaze wondered back to Eryn Lasgalen, where smoke rose up to the sky to meet the new day.

Once again Rafél cursed in his mind, wondering if he would dare to do so aloud. But it was his _duty_ to obey the command of the Crown Prince when the King wasn't present. Even if he didn't like of the given order…

He didn't know when he had lost Legolas from his sight. Possibly during the attack of the Balrog, when at last the retreat was called. Rafél cursed himself yet again. It was his _responsibility_, at times like this, to look after and take care of Legolas. Even if he wasn't his bodyguard anymore, he was so in his own heart. _Maybe Legolas trusted I was coming._ He shook his head, in despair. He knew his Prince was somewhere there, but not being able to see him and check that he was well… the feeling was soon coming unbearable. _Maybe this is why Tirifëa sent me away. But it seems that he was wrong: being away from the Realm makes me worry over Legolas even more._

He looked up, towards the rising sun. _Let it be so that Legolas and Gimli are with Thrénandu's group, or somewhere else safe. Otherwise… I will never be able to live with myself._

")My Lord?(" a voice asked behind Rafél, making him turn his attention away from his protégé. Behind him stood one of the Elves he was leading over the Mountains, looking uncertain, blooded and weary. _Like all of us_, Rafél thought ironically.

")I'm coming,(" Rafél said at length. The other gave him a small smile, no doubt knowing of his inner desires to be somewhere entirely else.

With one more glance towards the forest, Rafél turned back west, climbing up to reach the others. He had a long way before him to go.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**  
_Las_ - Leaf (Legolas' nickname)  
_Ada_ - Dad (Adar = Father)  
_Le Haran_ - Your Highness  
_Le maien dele_ - You look worried  
_Lasto_ - Listen  
_Pedo_ - Speak  
_Yrch_ - Orcs  
_Ernil nîn_ - My Prince  
_Dae a ruin_ - Shadow and flame  
_Nai a Vala nauvar aselyë_ - May the Valar be with you

**/Quenya/: - Westron:**  
_Túle_ - Come

**{Khuzdul{: - Westron:**  
_Khazâd-aimênu! _ - The Dwarves are upon you!


	9. Chapter 7: Sad News in Rohan

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 7: Sad News in Rohan**

* * *

**Edoras, Rohan**

Éomer smiled slightly to himself as he watched a group of young men. Youths, one could have said. In fencing just outside the city were few young and spirited stallions, which didn't seem to wish to co-operate with their young trainers. The show had been going on for some time already, but even by Éomer's own experience only practice makes you a master. So he kept watching the interesting events before him, remembering well his own early years in such an activities. He chuckled and shook his head. How his dear sister Éowyn had laughed when his brother had claimed that he could quite well ride one of those newly captured stallions. He had indeed somehow managed to get onto horseback, but once he was there, the horse had immediately bolted, and the young man had been thrown down to the ground quite unceremoniously. Sometimes, Éowyn still reminded him of that event…

Suddenly Éomer noticed that one of the gates' guards was running towards him. Éomer turned to meet the other man, who quickly saluted him. "My King," the man started, uncertain how to tell the King his news.

"Well, what is it?" Éomer asked. His eyebrow rose inquiringly.

"Your Highness, King Elessar and the Steward of Gondor are here. They just arrived to the city."

Éomer's face got brighter immediately. Seeing both Aragorn and Faramir would be pleasant indeed, and if Faramir was here, then so was Éowyn. Without waiting another moment, Éomer started to stride back to the city, smiling happily as he went.

The King of Rohan had no idea how soon his smile was going to fade.

* * *

**A few days later**

"Do not blame yourselves. I'm not sure how much any of us could have done if we would have been there ourselves."

Aragorn glanced at Éomer, knowing that the younger man's words weren't true at all, and they beheld only little comfort. He sighed. He had dreaded this day for long, and now that it had come, it wasn't going on too well. Though Éomer was now amazingly calm, Aragorn knew it _couldn't_ last long. Knowing Éomer and his nature, the Horse Lord's desire for revenge and justice would be even greater than his and Faramir's together.

Faramir, on his side, had been very quiet, letting his King do the talking, knowing that he had little to say at any rate. Now he stared out of the window to the wide plains that his wife had so loved. He closed his eyes in despair and tried to control his emotions that tried to brake free again. It seemed that the tears he had already shed weren't enough…

Suddenly Faramir felt someone touch his shoulder and turned to meet the other, suspecting it to be Aragorn, but instead meeting brown eyes full of concern. Éomer gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, and Faramir felt a rush of relief drive through him. At least Éomer didn't keep him responsible for his sister's death. If he would have been in Éomer's place…

Faramir smiled vainly and received one in return. Then they turned to Aragorn, who was watching them intently. For a moment they were all quiet again, and when the silence started to feel too pressing, Éomer asked a question that had greatly troubled him, though he hadn't been sure if it was a proper question to ask.

"You spoke something of an Elvish weapon," Éomer said, watching Aragorn closely for reactions. And reaction he saw. Aragorn's eyes darkened and he shifted. Éomer couldn't read these signs, but he was sure that Aragorn wasn't going to tell them all he suspected. _And maybe it is better so. Sometimes being ignorant is a blessing…_

"I'm not sure what I should make out of that. Yes, the… women… were killed with an Elven blade, but that doesn't necessarily mean that an Elf killed them."

Éomer felt ready to laugh and cry at the same time. Aragorn avoided mentioning the women's names whenever possible, maybe so trying to block out the unwanted feelings. Éomer had no idea if the former Ranger of the North was succeeding in his attempt or not, but at least he was trying… And because Aragorn was raised, trained and befriended by Elves, it made all this far more difficult. Obvious things weren't so obvious, after all.

"And there is one other thing."

Éomer woke from his thoughts, and looked to Aragorn questioningly. A swift glance to Faramir's direction told him that he wasn't alone in his ignorance.

Aragorn sighed wearily, crossing his hands over his chest, leaning his head to his palm – a clear sign of weariness, distress… "There were only few who knew of my unborn child. If our wives were killed because of my heir… there are not many who knew," he whispered brokenly at last.

"How many?" Faramir asked, surprised that this fact hadn't crossed their minds before. Or his mind at least.

Aragorn shrugged, rising his face to look at his companions. "None, I would say. Gwen, yes, but I know she has told to no-one."

"Are you sure?" Éomer demanded.

"Yes," Aragorn answered somewhat sharply. "She wouldn't have told to anyone. But somehow, someone found out."

"And we have to find that 'someone'," Faramir whispered tiredly.

Éomer also groaned in frustration. His head was starting to hurt and he was angry and tired. Éowyn had been buried yesterday, and he hadn't slept after the small group of Gondorians had brought his sister home. He groaned again and rubbed his temples.

"Maybe we should go outside for awhile. Fresh air would do miracles to us," Faramir suggested.

The two other men just nodded and they went outside to the bright sunlight.

Éomer felt a little better when he got outside, his eyes scanning the open landscape before him. A cool wind blew across the plains, swaying the grass in its wake. Suddenly Aragorn stiffened, his eyes surveying something in the north. The others turned their eyes to same direction, though it took some time before they saw the same: a small group of riders was coming towards the city. The three of them watched silently as the group drew nearer, and when the riders came closer, Éomer recognised a banner of Rohan.

"You still have patrols to guard your lands?" Aragorn asked, a little amused, remembering their first meeting years ago on the plains near Fangorn forest.

Éomer smirked. "Old ways stuck hard. I bet these years of peace haven't been wearisome only for us, but also to those men who before used their time in defending their lands."

Aragorn nodded. The group was already reaching the city, and his steady grey eyes followed the riders' movements. "Maybe we could hear some tidings from them," he said quietly. _And distract our own minds in the process._

Éomer nodded, and without further words, they started towards the gate. But before they got far, shouts began to rise from the direction of the city's entrance. A few moments later Irolas, who was one of those who had come with Aragorn and Faramir from Gondor, ran towards them.

"My King! A group of Rohirrim has just arrived from the northern border and they have two wounded Elves with them."

Aragorn stopped to his tracks, and then broke into a run after realising what his captain had said. He soon reached the gate, people making way to him as they saw him approach. And indeed, there were two dreadful looking Elves with the riders. Aragorn checked their faces quickly, but couldn't remember if he had met them before.

"Take them to Meduseld, I will see to them. Hurry now!" he said to the riders who held the unconscious Elves, and they swiftly spurred their horses forward through the crowd. Aragorn followed them quickly, knowing that the time pressed him. Elves have legendary stamina, and he himself had witnessed that it wasn't only a legend. Elves didn't easily get unconscious, and if they did, they were usually quick to wake, not carried on the horseback for miles.

Aragorn nearly ran into his two companions who came towards him, their faces worried. "My Lord?" Faramir asked quickly, waiting for orders: he also had seen the Elves.

"Éomer, go and question your men about what has happened. Faramir, you come and help me with the wounded." As the men separated to their ways, Aragorn wondered what could have possibly caused the Elves' current condition. _Somehow I can guess that the men are unharmed, for otherwise I should have been informed of a battle immediately. But I think I'll know soon enough_, he thought while running up the steps to reach the doors of the Golden Hall.

It was going to be a long night.

**

* * *

**

_The drums kept banging. Metal clanged against armour. Someone screamed next to him. All the noises became one, big cacophony that echoed in the caverns. And then suddenly all went silent. They all waited. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, begging for rest. But he couldn't rest: not if he wanted to live. _

_And then came the flames. The screams increased, everyone running around, blinded by terror. He couldn't find the others. He couldn't find Thalión. He shouted for his cousin, but no one answered. Bodies crashed into him, forcing him to move along. Broken orders to retreat were shouted. Everyone was running, trying to escape from the dark demon that was approaching, bringing death to all around it. He shouted again, not even hearing his own voice. _

_A wounded Elf clung onto his arm, begging him to help. He had to go: had to help his wounded kinsman. But he could not go before knowing that Thalión was safe as well. And Legolas. Where was the young Prince? He hadn't seen him either after they had seen the Balrog approach. _

_Someone crashed into him, and when he turned to look, he met empty eyes of a dead Elf. He couldn't remember his name, but he had practised with him some years ago. Not a great warrior, but at least he died like one… The wounded Elf on his other side whimpered, his grasp slipping. He had to grasp the Elf's arm to prevent him from falling. _

_"Thalión!" _

_The only answer he got was a death-scream near to him. He could not stay. So he ran, dragging the wounded one with him. It felt like hours before he reached a tunnel that led out. Everywhere were dead ones, his kin and dark creatures. The air was full of smoke and the thick air smelled of blood and death and burning flesh. The flames attacked the dead and the dying on the floor, mingling their cries of pain to other sounds. _

_And then he was outside. But again he was alone, only the wounded one leaning onto him heavily, his breath ragged. He saw no one near him, and he had no strength to shout anymore. On the other hand, it could have leaded the enemies right to him. So he kept running, trying to see any signs of others. _

_After hours of wandering he found Shannai, and together they managed to aid their wounded companion and find a large group of Elves. _

_Many came that night, but not his cousin. He knew that even if some of the Elves had left to seek their way over the mountains in attempt to reach Grey Havens, his cousin would not be with them. So if Thalión would not come, it could only mean that he was dead. _

_And when it was decided that some would leave to get aid from the Rohirrim, he volunteered. If Thalión was dead, he could not go back to the caves to find him. _

_Later as he and three others raced through the night with the best horses that had been found, he cursed himself. He was a coward for he had not the courage to face his cousin dead. Thalión would have searched for him to the end of the world, and so would have Dínnor. _

_What would Dínnor say when he heard of his actions? He would be furious. Could he ever look his oldest cousin into the eyes again after his shameful escape? He seriously doubted it. There was no way he could justify his actions. _

_Then suddenly there was Wargs everywhere. They attacked them as one, striking their strong jaws into the horses, bringing them down easily, and then attacked the riders. He fought by instinct, and when it all ended, only two of his companions were alive, all of them seriously wounded. He himself knew only pain, but they all knew that they had to keep going. They couldn't give up now. _

_But in the end they were helpless. One Elf with serious damages collapsed to the ground, and didn't rise again. The two of them continued again, but after a few miles they could not go on. And there was noise near now, maybe another pack of Wargs coming. _

_Too tired to care anymore, he collapsed to the ground beside his fellow warrior, praying for swift death and forgiveness from those whom he had betrayed…_

Asthaldo woke up with a silent shout, the noise closer to a gasp, sitting up in an instant, scanning his surroundings. He was no longer on the plains, but in a small room which smelled of wood and herbs, and slightly of horses. Beside him lay his only surviving companion, Oituilë, pale and unconscious. There was also someone else in the room. Asthaldo turned his head so quickly that it hurt, but at least he saw the other one now: a Man stood on the other side of the room, looking a bit uncertain what he should do.

Slowly the Man stepped forward, raising his hands as a sign that he was not a threat. "I'm not going to hurt you. Please, lay down. My Lord will be here soon," he said slowly, maybe not being sure if the Elf understood him. Asthaldo smiled despite himself. This Man didn't feel dangerous. There was something familiar about him that Asthaldo could not quite fall in…

"Where am I?" Asthaldo asked, shocked of how rough his own voice sounded. Good thing that he and his cousins had practised Westron before: now it would come to use again.

"In Rohan." It took a moment for the Man to answer. He hadn't expected that the Elf would speak Westron so well.

"In Rohan," Asthaldo echoed and fell back to the bed. _Bless you, High Ones! We made it! We are in Rohan._ Slowly Asthaldo collected himself. He pushed himself half up from he bed, watching the Man intensely. "I have to meet the King. I have very urgent message to him and –"

"King Éomer will be here at any moment. He is just speaking with King Elessar."

Asthaldo's shock must have been apparent, because the Man evidently noticed it. _Elessar is here? This must be my lucky day. Legolas knows Elessar even better than King Éomer, and Elessar has been brought up among Elves._ Asthaldo lay down again and slowly turned to watch his Elven companion. Worry furrowed his brow. His kinsman didn't look very good. Actually, Oituilë looked terribly sick and pale. He heard the door open but didn't turn to look, his worry for another Elf too great.

"I am sorry for your friend. I have done all I can, but he had not much strength left when you were found." The voice was gentle but firm, and Asthaldo turned around to meet a Man who had came to the room; or actually Men, for there was two who had entered. Asthaldo's fallow eyes met the grey ones of the Man who had spoken, and he saw that this Man had strength in him. Then he saw the pendant around his neck.

"You must be Elessar Telcontar. I am most honoured to meet you," Asthaldo bowed his head as he could.

"Please, we need no courtesy here," Aragorn said as he observed the Elf with his gaze. He took a step forward. "How do you feel?"

"I have been worse."

Aragorn couldn't help but smile. That kind of a statement he would have expected from Legolas as well.

"He said he has a message to King Éomer," the first Man said. Aragorn turned to watch the others, who still stood on the other side of the room. Then he looked at the Elf again.

"Well, now that Éomer is here, would you tell your message? I'm most interested of its contents, taking into consideration how you were found and in what condition."

"So you must be King Éomer of Rohan?" Asthaldo asked from the other Man who had entered.

Éomer only nodded.

"Oh, forgive my manners," Aragorn said. "I'm starting to forget how to introduce people to each other, as Faramir here usually takes care of those things."

The Man who had been in the room at first smiled at the comment, and suddenly Asthaldo realised why he looked so familiar. Of course Legolas had told him about the Steward and the Prince of Ithilien. He nodded to Steward, smile ghosting on his lips. But as soon as the smile came, it was gone, because remembering Legolas brought back some memories he had tried to lock to the back of his mind.

"We were sent to ask for aid from the King of Rohan" he started. "Me and three others…" Asthaldo swallowed, quickly glancing to his last companion. "We had a rather hard journey," he finally got out. The Men stood nearer now, listening silently. Asthaldo sat up and took a deep breath of air when his wounds protested again. "We come from Eryn Lasgalen. The Woodland Realm was attacked under a week ago, and out people are in dire need of aid."

"Why come into Rohan? Dale, Esgaroth and Erebor are right next to you," Éomer asked.

"We were afraid that they were attacked too," Asthaldo said softly. "Maybe others were sent there too, I do not know. It was such chaos when we left. Most of the Elves are dead, some have left to seek the Grey Havens and the rest…" Asthaldo shook his head.

Aragorn found it hard to control his feelings. "Who attacked? Orcs?"

Asthaldo let out something that could have been described as a laugh. "I only wish! First there was only Orcs, hundreds of them, even if not thousands. There were also Trolls and Goblins and Uruk-hai, as far as I can tell. But that was only the beginning…"

For a moment, Faramir wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know what had been the final blow. But he needed to know the answer. "What else was there? You speak as if the Orcs were only a minor problem."

Asthaldo smiled. "Indeed, Steward, Orcs were a minor problem. Though I have never seen them as a great threat…" Asthaldo said remembering the battle of Hithsîr that had been fought long ago – he and his two cousins against hundred of Orcs. None of the foul creatures had stayed alive to tell about that fight.

"So, what came next?" Aragorn needed to know, dread rising in his mind all the time.

"The Flame and the Shadow," Asthaldo whispered, his memories waking again. "The Balrog."

There was silence for a long time in the room. Aragorn closed his eyes and asked very quietly, so only the Elf heard him. "Was Legolas there? With Gimli?"

"Yes. Gimli was still sleeping in Legolas' room when the attack started, and Legolas wanted to go to him, but then… _it_ came. I heard from Shannai later that Gimli had got out from Legolas' room, and was searching for his Elf… but they never came to the meeting place. Nor did many others either…" Asthaldo finished, not really caring if the King of Men saw his pain. His dearest friend and his cousin were both lost somewhere, and he just sat here, doing nothing to help them.

When Asthaldo finally looked up to meet Elessar's eyes, he saw there such pain and anger he flinched. _So Shannai didn't tell only jokes when he said that this Man cares about Legolas._ "Will you help us?"

Aragorn glanced at Éomer, but the other Man was already in action. "How many men do you need? There may be a possibility for a new attack, and if that comes, we must have enough men to protect ourselves and the Elves."

Asthaldo couldn't believe his ears. It couldn't be that easy! The Men were already practically out of the door to organise their forces to move, discussing of how many men they needed and how much supplies. Asthaldo fell back to the bed, numb with relief and thought that now he could rest for a moment.

Faramir and Éomer were already out of the room, when Aragorn returned yet again to the side of the beds, this time checking Oitulië's wounds. Asthaldo didn't see much hope in the Man's eyes as he raised his head to look at Asthaldo. With a silent nod, Asthaldo messaged to the Man that he didn't need to hear the words. Oituilë wasn't going to survive.

Aragorn walked silently to a basin, washing his hands and then taking a towel to dry his hands, turning to look at Asthaldo in the process. "If it is not too bold to ask, I would like to know your name. It would be much easier for me to know the name of the one I am tending."

"He is Oituilë. My name is Asthaldo," Asthaldo answered vaguely.

Aragorn nodded, then suddenly his eyes went wide, and he nearly dropped the towel. "_That_ Asthaldo?" he breathed, astonished.

Asthaldo shrugged. "Probably then one you are thinking, yes."

"You are a legend," Aragorn exclaimed. "One of the Three Cousins of Hithsîr."

Asthaldo gave out a short laugh. "So some say. But I think I also am in the presence of a legend," Asthaldo looked at Aragorn pointedly.

With a nervous laugh, Aragorn put the towel away, heading to the door. "Indeed. I must go now. Try to rest: that is now what you need." With that, he left the room, a somewhat childish smile on his face. _One of the Cousins. My Gods Elladan and Elrohir will be so jealous of me when they hear of this…_

Outside of the room the two men were waiting, looking interested at their King as he got out. For a moment none of them spoke, and what smile there had been on Aragorn's face, was soon gone.

With a heavy sigh, Aragorn leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. "A Balrog." He shuddered at the memory, both his own experience and the horror he had seen in Asthaldo's eyes.

"Do they even have chances, the Elves?" Éomer asked doubtfully. He had heard enough stories about those ancient demons of the dark world, and he hoped it would have stayed as an 'ancient' one.

Aragorn glanced to the room again, watching how Asthaldo laid back down and took his companion's hand to his, closing his eyes for a healing sleep. The King sighed, and finally said: "There is always hope." He paused for a moment, watching the Elves. Then he turned to his friends, putting his hands to each Man's shoulder. "I think it is pointless to tell you to consider if going to the aid of the Elves is wise or safe, because I think we all have done our deciding. Ready the men. We must leave as soon as possible. Asthaldo told us that there are Elves alive, and would wish to be on their aid as soon as possible to prevent any other deaths. They didn't sent for help for nothing."

The two others nodded, and then they separated, heading out to find their captains. Aragorn stood alone for a moment, and then glanced back to the room where the Elves slept. _Oituilë is not going to survive through the night, and I think that Asthaldo knows that. Gods to bless us all so this one will be the last one to die._ Aragorn groaned inwardly. _For Gods' sake where are you Legolas? I really hope that you are better that your kinsman seems to think you are…_

With that he closed the door silently and went to look for the preparations. There would be much to be done before they could leave towards the north.

* * *

**Morning of the day after**

Asthaldo could hear voices of men in the corridor. They were preparing to leave. He fastened his tunic and threw another look to his dead companion. Oituilë had died last night, and now his spirit was at last in peace, beyond pain and darkness of this world. Asthaldo had seen much death during his long life, and this one had been a rather pleasant way to die…

After one more glance he stepped to the corridor and headed outside, feeling very stiff and sore from many parts of his body. But if he would not make his move now, he would be left behind, and that would not do. So he kept walking, trying to call as little attention to himself as he could as he strode through the halls Meduseld. At last he got outside, and saw the riders in the courtyard. He slipped past the men and went to the stables, looking for a spare horse or some other animal. It seemed that luck was with him, because outside the stables there was an old horse grazing.

Asthaldo went to the side of the fencing, calling for the horse, which raised his head in interest and walked slowly to the Elf. Two minutes after Asthaldo led the horse to the courtyard, stopping to the edge of the riders, speaking to his horse with a low voice.

"And what exactly you think you are doing, Master Elf? As far as I can remember, you should be in bed right now."

Asthaldo turned around to greet the King of the Horse Lords. "My Lord Éomer. I found the hospitality of your people most gracious, but I must be on my way home. I have duties to attend there, and too long I have been avoiding them already." _Duties like finding Thalión…_

"So you thought just to take one of our horses and ride back with us?" Éomer asked quite amused, leaning forward in his saddle.

"Do you wish me to walk, then, my liege?" Asthaldo asked. His cousins hated his habit of twisting other's words above all else. He especially loved to use it towards Legolas, who always enjoyed the game, especially after he befriended Gimli: those kinds of word-plays were good practice for his and Gimli's sparring matches.

Éomer was failing in attempt to keep a straight face, but to his luck, Aragorn rode in with Roheryn, stopping his horse next to them. "Lord Asthaldo, it is well to see you up. Though I'm not sure if you are well enough to ride with us. The road is long and we are in haste."

"Then leave me behind if I become too much a burden. But I assure you, my Lords, you won't see that happen."

Aragorn knew well the pride of Elves and didn't press the matter further. Instead he turned his haze to the old horse. "I would advise you, at least, to think of changing that animal, for I am not quite sure if he is capable to such a journey we have ahead of us."

Asthaldo just smiled. "Oh, he will be just fine. We have discussed about this, and he wished to come."

_So alike with Legolas_, Aragorn thought. "As you see best, Master Elf."

For a while, they just stood there, waiting, but finally Aragorn couldn't bear the silence anymore. He needed a distraction for his thoughts, which always at the times of silence turned to his dead wife... "So, Lord Asthaldo, you know Prince Legolas?"

"Very well, yes, My King Elessar. We are friends…" Asthaldo went quiet after this, considering what to say. "He was always one of us – one of the Cousins. From the very first moment we met him…"

"You shall see him again," Aragorn put a comforting hand upon Asthaldo's shoulder. "I know Legolas, and he isn't killed that easily. He has faced such an enemies before, and he has Gimli to look after him."

"I think you are right, my King Elessar," Asthaldo said. "I'm just afraid. For him and my cousin as well."

Aragorn nodded. "Then we must hurry. But if you wish to be riding with us, please do not call me 'Elessar' or 'My Lord', because for you I am Aragorn, and it honours me to ride in your company, more than you'll never know."

Asthaldo watched the Man for a moment and the shook his head. "I really understand now what Legolas sees in you. You have the fair speech and manners of Eldar, and yet you are a King of Men. But after all you were raised in Rivendell, so it is then quite understandable why your speech is so righteous. And as a show of respect for you, I will do as you requested, Aragorn."

"Good. Éomer, let's get these men on the move. We have wasted enough time here as it is."

"As you wish," Éomer said, still looking at Asthaldo and Aragorn strangely, and then gave the order. As they started to move on, Faramir came to ride to their side with Irolas, and they all took their place in the head of the group as it passed through the gates.

When they passed out of the city, Aragorn turned to Asthaldo, eyes full of apology. ")I am sorry for your companion. His funerals shall be looked for, though no Elven song will rise to his memory tonight.("

")There will be enough song for the memory of the dead before this is over, my Lord. Of that I am sure.("

And with those words they rode on towards the north, hoping that they wouldn't arrive too late…

_to be continued…_


	10. Chapter 8: Hunting a Prince

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 8: Hunting a Prince**

* * *

**Wold**

Pain. All consuming, searing pain. That was all he felt as he was dragged and pushed forward. He could no longer feel his feet, but somehow they managed to propel him forward. He stumbled again, and was pulled roughly up. And then he limped forward again. This had become some kind of twisted routine by now. At last they stopped, and he sank to the ground with relieved sigh, lying there for a long moment.

Opening his eyes, Thalión looked around himself. He lay somewhere, in a brown grass, near a high cliff that offered some shelter to his captors from the rays of the sun. Beside him lay another Elf, silent and unmoving, back turned to Thalión's direction.

Agonisingly slow, memories started to return to Thalión. He had led the Balrog away from Legolas and Gimli, trying to offer the Dwarf a chance to save the Prince. As he had ran away from the couple, he had known that he wouldn't survive alive.

But he had.

After a while of running, he had hidden under a small ledge of broken stone where the Balrog couldn't reach. Apparently, the demon had tried to reach its prey none the less. Soon the entire ledge had collapsed on the top of Thalión, trapping him under heavy layer of stone. Hours after, Orcs had dug him out, Gods know why.

And now he was here. A prisoner. No idea of where he was, and with whom. He knew that there were other captives as well, but in his hazy world of pain he hadn't yet found out who those others were. He couldn't even tell how many days had passed after his rescue from the rocky prison.

Shifting, Thalión tried to make some blood to flow to his tied hands, grimacing in pain. For a while he wondered if the smell of burned skin came from him: the flames of Balrog had burned him quite bad in their heated chase. Trying to push the pain back and clear his mind, Thalión inched a little closer the other Elf. The Orcs seemed to be fully intent to an attempt to hide the sun, and so Thalión dared to move even closer to the other. ")Are you…(" the sentence stopped in the middle, as Thalión suddenly recognised the other Elf. Even if he still saw only the other's backside, he knew him. "Legolas," he gasped. He nudged the other with his head. ")Are you awake?(" No answer.

Thalión groaned in frustration and pain, and looked around, trying to find out if Gimli had been captured too. But if the Dwarf was also a prisoner, he couldn't see him. He now gazed at the other prisoners with more interest, recognising many of them. _Well, at least those whom I know best have avoided to be captured. Or at least they are not with this group. Now my only mission will be getting Legolas away from here as soon as possible, but I truly wonder how I shall do that, taking in consideration my own state. The others do not look much better, either. _

Thalión looked at Legolas again, searching for wounds or something akin to them. In an instant, his eyes fell to the other's back, and he wondered how he had been able to miss those damages before: the long, narrow welts running down Legolas' back from his shoulders to the small of his back looked hideous. Thalión quickly decided that he probably didn't wish to know how his friend had received those wounds. Swallowing deep, Thalión rested his head gently to the other's shoulder, listening Legolas' shallow, irregular breathing. Fury rose inside Thalión steadily, and he took strength from it. "Legolas," he whispered again, desperate to know the other was well enough to answer him.

As a reply to the other's call, Legolas groaned and shifted, his own bound hands rubbing against his wounded back, making his gasp and wake. He looked around dazed, not sure where he was. After a moment, Legolas noticed there was someone close to him, and he turned his head slightly, meeting Thalión's powder blue eyes. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Legolas tried to free his hands, only then noticing that they were bound. He struggled for a moment to free himself, but with no avail. His hands remained bound, and the only thing he was successful in was enflaming his back once more. Letting out a whimper of pain, Legolas settled down, exhausted, breathing hard. He could feel Thalión's smile against his neck.

"I think we are going to stay like this for a while," Thalión said quietly, not wishing the Orcs to hear. Legolas nodded slightly, defeated.

"Where are we? How long has it been since…"

"I wish I knew, Greenleaf. I am quite dazed myself."

"Maybe the others know," Legolas wished, looking at the other Elves. He didn't put too much hope into that wish, though, seeing the others' condition. "We have to escape. We cannot keep going like this…"

Thalión nodded. "How long have you been aware of our.. surroundings. I must confess that I have been quite oblivious of our travel this far."

"I think I woke for the first time few days ago. Further than that, I do not know," Legolas answered, twisting to look at Thalión worriedly. "How are you? You didn't look very good, as far as I could tell."

Thalión grimaced. "To be honest, I do not feel very good. But I shall be all right. I already feel better…"

Legolas nodded, even if he didn't look convinced.

Thalión smiled at Legolas gently, seeing clearly the pain in the other's eyes. "Worry not, Little Bird. We shall get away from these foul creatures, and back home." Legolas' only response was to lay his head back to the ground. Thalión sighed. _The only thing we can do now is to wait an opportunity to escape. And if that opportunity doesn't present itself soon, I don't know what will happen. But right now none of us seems to be in a condition to attack Orcs and ensure an escape to all of us._ Beside him, Legolas shuddered, and Thalión shifted himself a little closer to the Prince, trying to avoid contact with the other's hurt back. _I wonder what happened to Gimli, and all the others. It doesn't make sense that Gimli would have left Legolas alone in this condition. It can only mean that Gimli was restrained from following his friend or…_ He didn't finish the thought, as he again remembered beside whom he laid. _Maybe Legolas knows what happened to the Dwarf. But I will not ask him right away. He needs rest now, above all else, before we are forced to move on again. But on the other hand, I need answers. And after all, this is a time as good as any other to ask what happened to the Dwarf…_ "Legolas..?"

A slight movement of shoulder before Thalión was only answer he got, but it indicated that Legolas was listening.

"What happened to Gimli? When I last saw him, he was with you."

Legolas went strangely still, the younger Elf's breath caught in his throat, and Thalión decided that something evil had befallen to the Elf-friend. "He… he didn't get up again. I tried to help him… but he never got up… I couldn't reach him…" Legolas said at length with a small, broken voice, and Thalión didn't have to see the other's face to know that there were tears. With a compliant movement, Thalión shifted closer to the younger Elf, offering him silent support.

As the day wore on, all was silent save the rough voices of the Orcs and occasional groan or whimper from the wounded Elves. Thalión, wandering between the dreamless sleep and the waking world, let his thoughts slowly draw themselves together, trying to solve out what had happened in that chaos that was called a battle. _I can only hope that Legolas' brothers' watchers were able to keep their proteges safe. And Asthaldo… hopefully he got out. But this is only a beginning of the problem. What of East Lórien? Was it also attacked? And Dale, Esgaroth, Erebor… what has happened there? Were they also attacked, or left alone? And who organised this assault? Someone able to find a Balrog, it seems. Well, for now, I am getting no answers, so I think I must be content with what I have, and start planning our escape. The night will fall in few hours, and there is no hope that the Orcs would stay here through the night…_ Deep in thought, Thalión laid on his place, eyes distant, pain forgotten. Whenever he despaired in attempt of forming a plan, he only had to look before him and see Legolas, and his thoughts turned adamant in an instant.

They had to escape.

* * *

Legolas regained consciousness as he felt a strong kick land to his ribs, the impact making his wince. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to get his senses in some kind of order. All the voices around him mixed into one, loud mess, but slowly he could separate some familiarities in them: Orcs' harsh speaking, and Thalión somewhat desperate curses. Another kick – now directed to his back – send a new wave of agony through him, making his nearly ordered senses spin again. Yet somehow he managed not to cry out. Maybe it was because the pain was so overwhelming that he couldn't have even thought of something like making a sound. Someone yanked him from the ground, sharp claws digging into his skin, and for a moment Legolas wondered if his tormentors were going to rip his head from its place. His vision swam, and he just and just could make out the face of an Orc before him, grinning at him evilly.

"You better get up soon, you smelly tree-rat, or you will be dragged behind us for the rest of the way – of that pretty hair of yours," the dark creature snarled, digging his claws to Legolas' chin, forcing the Elf's head towards his.

"He won't get up any sooner if you treat him like that. Give him time," Thalión hissed from between his teeth, struggling against the Orcs that were holding him in place.

"Shut up, or I'll cut your sharp tongue out of your mouth!" one of the Orcs shouted, fingering its knife eagerly.

Thalión cursed under his breath, his eyes glued on Legolas, as if trying to force him to stand up with his eyes. But it seemed that Legolas' body has other thoughts. The giant Orc holding Legolas from the back of his neck shook his victim forcefully, cursing the Elf with Black Speech.

Legolas, on his side, was much out of everything that happened around him. The grip in his neck – not letting out the violent shaking – made his spine arch, tearing the welts in his back open again, blacking out everything else but pain. Feeling the pain starting to get better of him, Legolas tried to struggle free. When the Orc noticed this, he raised Legolas even more off from the ground, finally bringing a cry of pain to the Elf's lips.

Seeing this, Thalión finally snapped. Rushing forward, he aimed one, precise kick towards the Orc holding Legolas, feeling bone break beneath the impact. The Orc howled, dropping Legolas back to the ground. But before Thalión even could think his next movement, a sharp, clawed hand struck him across the face, sending him to ground, dazed.

"No more things like that," growled the Orc standing before Legolas menacingly. "Now get them to their feet, we have to move on." He looked at Legolas, disgusted. "If that one can't walk, kill it." This raised a new wave of cheering among the Orcs, which most likely hoped that Legolas wouldn't rise.

While Thalión was pulled back to his feet, he whispered frantically to Legolas: ")Get up, Legolas! They will kill you if you won't.(" As this didn't work, Thalión changed his tactic. ")If you don't get up, I shall tell Gimli about this!(" _Maybe in his dazed condition he won't even remember that the Dwarf is gone_, Thalión hoped. This, finally, coaxed a reaction in Legolas. He opened his eyes, and slowly struggled to his knees, swaying for a moment, and then rose to his feet, looking awfully pale to Thalión. Again Thalión wondered what had happened to Gimli.

Slightly disappointed that their sport has ended so soon, the Orcs herded their Elven prisoners forward without mercy. Hours went by. Night wore on. Mile after another passed.

Thalión, on the other hand, didn't seem to make progress with his thoughts, or in a forming of a plan. Once in a while, he always turned to look at Legolas, and as the time passed, the Prince started to look a little better. Though even if improved, Legolas still didn't look even nearly as good as usual. But in their current situation, this had to do.

_At least he is staying on his own feet now. I don't know what the Orcs would do to him if he wouldn't. But this cannot continue! I have to find a way to get us all free._ Despaired by his thoughts that didn't lead anywhere, Thalión focused on walking again.

Suddenly there were voices behind them, and both Legolas and Thalión turned around to witness the event that was causing the disorder. About ten yards away from them, one of the Elven prisoners was keeling on the ground, blood from his old wounds staining his clothes. The Orcs weren't happy at all of this delay, and they tried to get the Elf back to his feet, but without success. The prisoner couldn't rise to his feet anymore. With horror, the other Elves were forced to watch as the leader of the Orcs howled, and the others surrounding the fallen Elf attacked their defenceless prisoner. Within seconds, the Elf was dead, but the Orcs didn't care, bloodlust fogging their minds, and they literally ripped the Elf apart.

As the Orcs drew back, Thalión swallowed. _This could have happened to Legolas… Valar to help us._ He quickly glanced at the Prince, seeing the other's ashy pale face easily in the dark. Legolas' eyes shone in the light of the moon, terror and hatred mingling together with weariness and pain.

Satisfied, the leader of the Orcs commanded his men forward again. The shocked Elves stumbled on, their hearts heavy with sorrow. Miles passed, Orcs driving their captives forward with brutal pace, but no one dared to blame or beg for a small halt.

After some time – Thalión couldn't tell when – they reached a river. The Orcs stopped, and for the first time during the night, the Elves were able to rest and draw their breath. The Orcs searched for something, sending scouts up- and downstream, but the Elves were too tired to care. After a short while, one of the scouts returned, and the group moved to the direction the scout pointed. There, after a half of a mile lay rafts hidden into bushes.

Soon the makeshift boats were pushed into water and the passengers loaded in. As the Orcs paddled across the river, Legolas thought that if he would make the raft sink, he would probably kill many of his enemies. But also many of his kinsmen. With this in mind, he laid still, listening the sound of the water. A gentle, cool wind blew, caressing his burning back. Closing his eyes, Legolas drifted deeper to his thoughts, when suddenly he bolted up, eyes wide. One of the Orcs pushed him down with a curse, and gingerly Legolas obeyed.

Thalión, who lay near his Prince looked at him questioningly. 'Nimrodel', Legolas mouthed to him, and it took a moment from Thalión to understand. The river they were crossing was Nimrodel. How Legolas knew this, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was the sing of the trees, carried by the wind… But right now the information about 'how' wasn't important. Finally, they knew where they were. They must have crossed Anduin days ago, when most of the Elves were still unaware of their surroundings. Maybe some of the others knew where they were, but there hadn't been much speech between the prisoners. Also why the Orcs had taken prisoners in the first place was a mystery to Thalión, but he didn't bother to mull over it now. After all, the knowledge of why they were still alive probably wouldn't help him much.

When the company reached the opposite shore they started their march again. Soon Thalión noticed a change in the behaviour of the Orcs: they acted more nervously, cursing under their breath and glancing around constantly. It took a moment for Thalión to understand why his enemies were acting like that. And then he realised that the dawn was near. The Orcs most likely had noticed that as well.

Swiftly, a plan started to form in Thalión's head. And when a fresh south-wind brought a smell of a forest to his nostrils, his plan was ready.

* * *

Legolas walked ahead, only his iron will keeping him on his feet. He tried to draw his thoughts away from his current state, but that turned out to be a rather difficult task. The pain running through his body kept him quite successfully aware of his current position. Tears burned behind his eyes, but he forced them to stay like they were. But he wasn't sure of how long he could keep going like this. His body ached for rest, his wound getting more painful with each passing moment.

At moments like this – not that he was in condition like this often – Legolas cursed the Elven endurance. If he would have been a Man, the pain would have already made him numb, but being an Elf meant that he was forced to be constantly aware of his discomfort.

Again, he stumbled. Again, he rose up, swearing beneath his breath as the impact with the ground sent a new wave of pain flaring up his wounded leg.

"Legolas," a soft whisper came from near Legolas, who was struggling to stay upright. ")Legolas, it is time.("

Slowly, Legolas turned his head a little towards Thalión, trying to hide their silent discussion as well as possible. But hiding wasn't necessary: the Orcs weren't listening anyway. Soothed by this, Legolas turned to face Thalión. ")Time?("

Thalión nodded, his eyes shining. ")I have spoken with others, or sent them a message. Many are in too bad condition to seriously think about escaping, but we all have agreed in one thing: you must escape.("

Legolas blinked, then started to shake his head, but Thalión's expression told him that he had very little to say in the matter. ")What of those who could escape?("

")They shall try to follow you.("

")Which means they will make sure I am not followed, which will most likely be the last thing they shall ever do,(" Legolas stated somewhat sharply, anger in his voice.

Thalión nodded. ")They would die for you, yes.("

")What about you?("

")I shall be right behind you.(" _As long as I can_, Thalión added in his mind. ")Fangorn is near. Try to make it there.("

Legolas nodded. Thalión gave him one last encouraging smile and then departed a little further. In the silver haired Elf's posture Legolas could see that the other prepared for fight. Legolas also readied himself, now wishing that he had asked what Thalión had in mind. Now he was forced to wait and see.

Not much later, Thalión made his move. Swifter than the Orcs could react, Thalión threw himself towards the nearest enemy, sending them both rolling to the ground. Before anyone else could do anything, Thalión had rolled back to his feet, his bound hands free and his enemy's blade in his hand. Within seconds, the Elves had taken advantage of their enemies' confusion and broke free. Harsh cries filled the air as the Orcs collected themselves, trying to fight back their prisoners.

Before Legolas had time to do much, Thalión was on his side again, cutting his hands free. "Run," he gasped, pushing Legolas to the direction of the forest, which could be seen in the horizon. Stumbling, Legolas dashed forward, knowing that protesting now wouldn't lead anywhere. Behind him he heard Thalión's steps as the older Elf followed.

This time Legolas was glad that he possessed Elven endurance, for without it he wouldn't have been able to sprint ahead. He pushed back the pain. Hearing the sounds of battle behind, with his mind screaming to stay and fight with the others, Legolas ran forward.

It felt like hours. They ran ahead, Thalión never falling far behind Legolas, keeping a careful eye on the Prince. Yet now and again he slowed down, gazing at the battle behind them. The Elves were dying, possibly all already dead. Soon the Orcs would begin to hunt their prisoners down. Picking up his pace again, Thalión urged Legolas softly. He had no intentions to be captured again.

And then there were sounds from their right. Quickly, Thalión looked in the direction of this new possible threat, and cursed under his breath. _More Orcs. Just my luck. They are still quite far away, but they have Wargs…_ ")Legolas, hurry!("

As a reply, Legolas stumbled slightly, but swiftly regained his balance again, glancing nervously into direction of the new group of enemies.

")Don't think about them. Keep running!(" Thalión shouted somewhat desperately, his own pace slackening. _May the Valar look after you now that I cannot._ With that thought, Thalión slowed down even more, watching the approaching enemy intently: they had sent the Warg-riders forth, and were making their way swiftly across the plains. Standing on the path of the approaching enemy, Thalión waited, his weapon in hand. In his mind, he prayed for Mandos to take him, and the Valar to protect his Prince and his cousins. _How strange it is, that creatures born not to die accept death so easily. But it is easy to accept something you do not fear, and the Elves do not fear death._

Thalión, standing unmoving, could already hear the enemy approach. Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath, forcing his body to forget its discomfort, pushing back the pain. Right now he needed all his speed and skill, not hindrance. Opening his eyes, and with one last glance towards Legolas, he turned his attention back to his enemies, which crashed into him only seconds later.

Swinging the Orcish blade in quick strokes while avoiding the jaws of the Wargs, Thalión took down two Warg-riders. The third beast crushed to his chest, forcing him to fall to the ground. Thalión slashed out, trying to dislocate his opponent, and hit something, most likely the Warg's side, because there came a deep howl from above him. The Orc sitting in the back of the Warg also tried to stab his enemy, but the movements of the Warg made it difficult, and with one hard thrust, Thalión ran his weapon through the Orc, then turning to face the Warg properly. But it was too late. The Warg sank its teeth to the Elf's shoulder, practically throwing the Elf out of its way. But instead of attacking its now helpless pray, the Warg raised its giant head, barked, and rushed after its mates that had already passed by.

Lying on the ground, abandoned, Thalión closed his eyes, letting the world slip away. He had done his task. The rest was up to Legolas…

* * *

He could already hear them, even over his own, raspy and swallow breathing. Legolas didn't dare to look back. Actually, he didn't have to. When you have spent most of your life as a warrior, you know well without looking when you are hunted by Wargs. Thalión was no longer with him, either. Legolas wasn't sure when the other one had left him, but it didn't matter. Right now, he was alone. Unarmed and hurt.

_Don't think it! Just run. Ignore all else. The forest is just before you. One more mile. They cannot reach you before it, and in the forest you shall be safe_, Legolas thought frantically. He sped up again, trying hard not to trip over. If he would stumble, he would lose precious time, and then he would not reach the shelter of the forest before his enemies.

With iron concentration, Legolas managed to reach the edge of the forest. He did not slow down as he rushed into the shadows of the forest. The branches scratched his skin cruelly, but Legolas knew he wasn't safe yet. He ran ahead, all the time trying to find a place to hide. With alarm, he soon realised that his pursuers had also reached the forest, the sniffing sounds of the Wargs trying to find him coming not too far behind.

In desperation, Legolas leaned against an old tree, gasping for breath. The Wargs could easily smell him, bloodied as he was. He could hide, and wait to be found. Or he could try to climb to a tree. Legolas gazed up into the high trees with longing. In his current condition, the climbing would stop short. He was too weary, the first limbs too high, and the pain in his back had returned, making his vision swim with black dots. Silently as possible Legolas slipped away from the tree, his keen eyes trying to find shelter. He didn't find shelter, but instead found himself staring into the eyes of a Warg – still some fifty yards away. Howling in delight– if a sound made by a Warg could be called like that – the creature leaped forward, soon followed by two of its mates. Legolas, on his side, dashed away, attempting to escape.

As the Wargs drew near to their target, Legolas knew his game was over. More howls came from afar, accompanied with Orcs' curses. Legolas, sure that his body would collapse at any minute, ducked down, crawling into a small cavernous space under the roots of an old tree. Not a moment sooner, the first Wargs were there, sniffing the opening of a small shelter, then starting to dig the ground in earnest, trying to reach their prey with their claws.

Legolas, on the back of his small shelter, kicked the paws away whenever they reached too near to him. _A plan. I need a plan. But what can I do, unarmed against three Wargs?_ At that moment, there came more sounds from the outside.

"Get back you smelling creatures! Where is that bloody tree-rat? Dug itself a gully, huh?" Harsh laughing followed this, and Legolas swallowed, bracing himself. _The Orcs must have weapons. If I just would get my hands on them…_ A nasty clawed hand thrust to the hollow made by the old roots, searching for the hiding Elf. With a disappointed frown Legolas noticed there was no weapon in that hand. Annoyed, the Prince kicked the searching hand with all his might, making the Orc shriek in pain and pull back the hurt arm. But Legolas' triumph didn't last long. With a curse, another Orc pushed the hurt one out of the way, kneeling to the ground so he could see to the hole. Legolas met the gleaming eyes of the Orc with narrowed eyes, readying himself. But without warning, the Orc shot forward, grabbing the Elf and pulled him bodily out of the shelter. Legolas, surprised by the other's strength, started soon to struggle with all his might, but it was too late. He was dragged back into the open unceremoniously, Wargs immediately pushing forward.

Reflexively, Legolas tried to free himself from the hands that now grabbed him from every direction. Pain momentarily forgotten, the archer fought like he was trained to fight. Kicking one Orc off of him, he gave another a bounce to the face, then tried to roll upright again, knowing that his strength would soon leave him. He got himself to his knees, and then suddenly something pushed him down with such strength and weight that the air was forced out of his lungs. Gasping for air, Legolas struggled weakly, feeling how strong claws dug into his back that was already aflame with pain. _A Warg._ Panic shot through Legolas like an arrow. He stilled for a moment, trying to breath and regain some of his fading strength. The Warg, on the other hand, had different ideas than let its catch to escape. With a growl, the Warg was just about to finish its victim, when one of the other Wargs attacked it. In few seconds the beasts were fighting each other, both wanting the Elf for themselves.

Legolas, not waiting any longer, shot up to his feet and was about to dash away when a loud shout behind him warned of an approaching Orc. With a lightning speed Legolas turned around, trusting his instincts to guide him. Before the Orc even realised what had happened, Legolas' strong hands snapped around the foul creature's neck, breaking it with desperate force. Panting, Legolas quickly kneeled down, taking the Orc's blade with a grimace of disgust, and turned away from the fighting foes. He had taken about ten steps before one of the other Wargs noticed that their catch was escaping. Those of the giant wolf-like creatures that were not fighting charged after the Elf, catching up with him quickly.

Legolas, with one more hopeless attempt to escape, jumped towards a tree, trying to climb up to safety. Before he had gotten far, sharp teeth sank into his right leg, pulling him down roughly. Twisting around, Legolas sank the blade that he had taken from the fallen Orc into the Warg's neck, making the beast let go of him. But when one fell, another took its place, finally having agreed that they could share their catch.

One of the Wargs tried to attack the Elf from the side, receiving the blade deep to its own side. But before Legolas was able to yank his blade free, the wounded Warg was already in action, bringing its strong jaws around the arm holding the blade. With a sickening crunch and a shout from Legolas, the Warg threw the Elf to the ground. Immediately there was another Warg, attacking the Elf's unprotected side, and a third that tried to pry the vainly struggling Elf away from the others. This was again followed with a small skirmish between the Wargs, giving Legolas some time to collect his wits.

Moaning with pain, Legolas rolled to his stomach and shuddered. He didn't even attempt to escape anymore. He knew he had no chances. Sobbing quietly, Legolas dug his fingers to the moss beneath him as one of the Wargs approached him again, dragging him away from the trees to a small opening. As growling filled the air and the rest of the Wargs reached him, Legolas prayed silently. The idea that the Wargs were going to rip him apart alive was quite terrifying, and it wasn't that kind of a death that Legolas had thought for himself. But it seemed that his life would end rather painfully. And very soon. When several pairs of jaws and claws dug themselves into his skin, Legolas screamed, unable to hold back anymore. ")_Ai, Elbereth_, please help me!("

For a moment Legolas' world narrowed, and he clearly heard the wind in the leaves, the singing of the birds further away. Then suddenly the Wargs fell back, growling to something. It felt like the earth had been moving, shifting restlessly under Legolas, but he really didn't care anymore. Death was now near to him, and he embraced it fully.

Suddenly the air was filled with a sound of rustling and now pained and terrified howling from Wargs, who now left him alone. Legolas opened his eyes, trying to clear his hazy vision. He was barely able to see two bodies of dead Wargs, and by the sounds, there was others dying nearby. As he watched, another body crashed to the ground, twitching there for a while and then lay unmoving. Confused, Legolas turned his head, pain flaring up anew, making him whimper. A shadow fell over him, and before Legolas was engulfed by unconsciousness, he was sure he saw mighty trees curving over him.

_to be continued…_


	11. Chapter 9: Evil Tidings

")…(" Sindarin

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* * *

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Chapter 9: Evil Tidings

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* * *

**

South from Lothlórien

The song of the trees had diminished long ago, and the magical light of the Golden Wood was gone. But those who had lived in the light of that wondrous forest still remembered its beauty. The glory of Lothlórien was a thing hard to forget.

With a sigh, Haldir turned away from the forest that was already miles behind them. These kinds of thoughts would lead him nowhere. Golden Wood was now only a shadow of its past glory. Things had changed. Galadriel had sailed over the Sea to the Undying Lands, and Lord Celeborn had led his people to dwell in southern Mirkwood, to a place that was now called as East Lórien.

Beside Haldir stood his younger brother, Rúmil, gazing before him with sudden interest. Haldir, alarmed by this, turned his grey eyes to the same direction with those of his brother, wondering what was going on. A quarter mile before them, the rest of their group had stopped, few of them kneeling in the grass. One of those ahead – Orophin, a brother to Haldir and Rúmil – rose up and turned to look at his brothers, beckoning with his had that they should hurry. Haldir and Rúmil looked at each other, frowning, and hurried towards their companions. Orophin hurried his brothers forward, meeting them half way, giving them a small nod. The brothers returned it, eyeing their third brother with interest: they could easily see in their brother's appearance that something was wrong. Only a second later, Orophin shifted, looking behind his back, and then turned to his brothers again. ")Come, I think you should see this.(" With that, Orophin turned around, returning to the others, his brothers following swiftly behind.

")What is it?(" Haldir asked as soon as they reached the small party before them.

Two Elves kneeling on the ground looked up, their fair faces worried and alarmed. With a nod, the other one rose up, giving Haldir a clear view to the ground. With a gasp, the Marchwarden stepped back, eyes widening. Before them in the grass lay a body of an Elf – or what was left of him.

The Elf who was still kneeling on the ground beside the dead one ran his hand lightly across the body, and then oven the bloodstained grass. ")He has been dead for some hours. Some of the injuries are older than the ones causing his death.(" The Elf raised his head, his uncommonly braided hair swaying slightly as he looked at the others standing around him. ")_Yrch._("

Rúmil sighed, and Haldir had a thoughtful expression on his face. ")What else can you make out of this, Dínnor?("

The dun eyes narrowed slightly as Dínnor gazed around him, trying to find some tracks he hadn't yet noticed. There most likely weren't many of those, because Dínnor was an extremely seasoned tracker. Though right now Dínnor hoped that his cousins would have been here, for they maybe could have been able to find something he did not.

")Khai is scouting ahead, just in case,(" said an Elf – Ithika – who had been kneeling on the ground beside Dínnor when Haldir had arrived. Haldir gave Ithika a swift look, nodding approvingly: he was both surprised and honoured that the others considered him as their leader. Ithika, still watching the corpse of the Elf, shook his head. ")This is not good.("

The other members of the small company wholly agreed to that statement. They had been escorting their Lord Celeborn to the Misty Mountains, seeing him safely to the borders of Lothlórien, where Imladris' Elves had been waiting for them. Celeborn had then journeyed to Imladris, and his Galadhrim-escort had taken a small trip through Lothlórien. It seemed that their journey back to East Lórien was turning out to be something far different than they had expected.

")She is returning,(" Orophin commented beside his brothers, and they all turned to meet Khai, who was making her way swiftly through the high grass. The warrior stopped before them, only swiftly glancing at the dead Elf on the ground. Before anyone said anything, Ithika was already stepping beside his younger sibling, sharing with her a meaningful glance.

")I found other signs of a battle. Possibly a hunt. There may be others…(" Khai didn't finished, instead she glanced at the dead Elf near her feet. Then she raised her head again, looking at Dínnor who also had stood up when she arrived. ")He is from Woodland Realm.("

Dínnor nodded grimly, reflexively gazing at the north. The others could only guess what thoughts were running through his mind at the moment. Most of them didn't even wish to guess. They all knew how fond of northern Elves this ancient warrior was. Fond enough that he and his two famous Cousins had dwelled among Mirkwood Elves for centuries…

Khai and Ithika also had befriended many of the Elves of the former Mirkwood, and it couldn't be easy for them either to take lightly the thought that there may be more dead Elves around – especially if those were from Eryn Lasgalen.

Haldir looked at the plains before him, thoughtful. He had not enough warriors to engage into a great battle. But in the case there was a large number of Orcs nearby, they were doing an amazing job in hiding themselves. His cool gaze fell on Khai and Ithika again, and a small smile curved his lips. Those two siblings – a brother and a sister – reminded him somewhat of himself and his brothers. But only slightly. Khai was one of those few skilled warrior Elf-women. After the first few years of doubt and disbelief, the other Marchwardens had learned to appreciate her skills greatly. It hadn't helped a slightest that Khai's older brother Ithika was also a respected warrior: she had earned her reputation all herself.

The silent communication that those two were now sharing was very similar to all those connections that were seen between the warriors of the same families or close friends: like Haldir and his own brothers, or the Three Cousins. Some said that Elves have telepathic powers: a way to 'speak' to each other and make plans without speaking. This rumour was only partly true: the Elves were able to communicate without words; just like a pack of wolves hunting together. A group of Elves who have fought long together know each other well enough to form a plan without uttering a sound. But of all Elves those who are related share the greatest connection. Blood is thicker than water, as it is said.

")Shall we search for others?("

Dínnor's sudden words broke the silence that had formed, startling the others from their dark thoughts. With a nod, Haldir took a step forward, then stopped again to look at his dead kinsman. He motioned to two of his companions. ")You, take care of him. We shall take him with us to the north when we return. Prepare him.(" The warriors nodded, kneeling down to their task. Haldir glanced at the others. ")The rest of you come with me. Find any signs of the ones who did this, or the others of our kin. We shall return here when we are ready,(" he finally said to those tending the dead one, and then sprang ahead, others spreading around him without further instructions, everyone knowing their task.

Steadily they moved across the plains, sharp eyes scanning the ground for any signs that could help them. Ithika, staying close to his sister, watched how Dínnor ran slightly ahead of the others, his movements making no more sound than a whispery wind swaying a long grass. In the horizon, Fangorn spread out darkly against the blue sky.

Suddenly Dínnor halted, his head slightly cocked to the side. Ithika, stopping his own running, silenced his breathing in attempt to hear what the other was hearing, but with little result.

More cautiously this time, Dínnor started ahead, his movements precise and every sense alert. Ithika, moving more carefully himself, glanced swiftly at his sister, who nodded and then turned to follow Dínnor again. They continued like this for a moment, and then again Dínnor halted.

"What is it?" Khai asked quietly. "Did you hear something?"

Dínnor, glancing at Khai amused, nodded. "I think I heard something, but I can't be sure."

Ithika, standing behind the other two, smiled at himself. It seemed that his sister thought that speaking Westron would somehow lessen the tension that hung upon them all. Perhaps it was working…

The heads of them all shot up when a low moan reached their ears. By instinct, they all reached for their weapons, surveying the scene before them. When another moan was heard, Dínnor shot forward, knowing that the one causing the sound wasn't an enemy, but an Elf. Khai and Ithika followed the elder swiftly, knowing that they had finally found something. It didn't take much longer before the Elves saw what had caused those moans.

Dínnor, shouting something hoarsely in some older Elven language, dropped to the ground beside the fallen Elf. Only a second later, Khai gasped and Ithika soon followed with a shocked expression.

"Thalión…" Khai whispered, peering over Dínnor's shoulder, but knowing well enough not to interfere.

The cousins were talking with hushed voices when the rest of the Galadhrim appeared, Dínnor's hands moving constantly, mapping out his cousins injuries. Others of the Galadhrim told that more dead Elves had been found scattered, some distanced to the north. It seemed that Thalión was the only one alive.

After some time, Dínnor rose, motioning a few of the Galadhrim to check his younger cousin's injuries. With a face like ice, Dínnor walked a little further away from his cousin, gazing at the forest before them. ")There was a massive attack to Woodland Realm. Orcs, Goblins… Balrog.(" This word drew a shocked gasp from those listening. ")Many are dead, but only a few were taken prisoners. Thalión does not know how the things are in the north now, but this I heard from him: Legolas was among those take prisoners, and he was able to escape. The other captives helped him to get away, to seek shelter from Fangorn.("

")You think he made it that far? Thalión's wounds are not minor, Dínnor, and all the other prisoners are dead…(" Haldir said quietly.

")We will never know if we stand here, shall we?(" Khai put in, timbre in her voice. All turned to look at her, knowing well how fond the Elf-woman was to the youngest Prince of Eryn Lasgalen.

")Gimli is dead.("

Now all turned to look at Dínnor, various expressions swimming over fair faces.

Khai paled visibly, leaning to his brother's side. She had always liked Gimli, those few times she had met the Dwarf. It would be a great loss for Legolas.

Haldir and his brothers didn't give out much signs of their own emotions, but that was not surprising, because the Galadhrim-brothers had never been close to Gimli, even if they knew Legolas quite well from the past. Many of the Galadhrim had never really met Gimli – besides those who had encountered with the Fellowship of the Ring years ago – but they all had heard stories of the Elf-friend's friendship and loyalty to Legolas.

")What shall we do?(" Rúmil asked, eyeing his oldest brother thoughtfully.

")We go after the Prince,(" came the answer from Haldir, even more swiftly than some had expected. But no-one disagreed. ")But Thalión –("

")Will come with us. Tend his wounds as you can. I will look after him,(" Dínnor said with a voice that left no place for arguments. But Haldir was not so easily swayed.

")I know that you are worried about your cousin, but he is hurt, badly. It will do him no good to be dragged around in his current condition. Besides, if we face battle, can you protect both him and your Prince.("

Dínnor didn't immediately answer, but his cold stare made even Haldir shift uneasily. ")He is coming. It is _his_ wish, not mine.("

Haldir seemed he was ready to argue, but in the end, who was he to deny the will of the eldest of the Cousins? Dínnor – or Thalión – were not Galadhrim, so Haldir had no authority over them. If he were to argue, he would only waste his breath: the determination of the Cousins was, after all, legendary. ")Very well,(" he finally said, a sound of defeat in his voice. ")Prepare to move on as soon as possible.("

")What about the dead ones?(" asked one of the Elves, but before Haldir was able to answer, everyone turned to look at the north, where a swiftly approaching group of riders could be seen.

")Our people. But what are they doing here?(" Ithika mused, glancing swiftly to Haldir. They got their answer soon enough. A small group of Elven riders came into view. There were five riders, among them the two they had left with the first found dead Elf, and many riderless horses that galloped obediently around the mounted horses. The group halted, and the leader of the group rode forward.

")We just got news from the north…("

With an ironic smile on his face, Haldir waved his had, telling the other it was unnecessary to continue.

")Let me guess. An attack? A great loss of Elven lives?(" Rúmil muttered beside his brother.

When the leader of the group glanced at Haldir in confusion, the Marchwarden only snorted and said: ")We already know.("

_to be continued…_


	12. Chapter 10: Shelter in Fangorn

")…(" = Sindarin

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**Chapter 10: Shelter in Fangorn**

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**West-Emnet**

The horses galloped steadily forward, raising a sheet of dust in their wake. Aragorn, on Roheryn's back, let his gaze wander across the plateau before them. He could already see Fangorn in the western horizon. Even if they were moving swiftly, it felt too slow for the former Ranger. Right now he felt great need for haste. Slightly before him Éomer led his _eored_ forward with all speed he could afford: if they would ride any harder than they currently were, their horses would never last it to the far borders of Eryn Lasgalen. Aragorn also knew this, but he felt frustrated none the less.

With a quick glance to his side, Aragorn noted that Faramir was still near him, the Men of Gondor riding as near as possible to their King. On the other side of Aragorn rode Asthaldo upon his steed, his fallow eyes scanning the plains before them even more actively than Aragorn's.

Noticing that he was being watched, the Elf turned his gaze to Aragorn, giving him a small smile that hid many emotions.

Aragorn was inwardly relieved that Asthaldo was recovering swiftly: he would have hated to tell the Elf that he needed to rest. Knowing the Cousin's reputation, telling Asthaldo to rest when the other didn't desire to do so, would have been very unwise – possibly even a fatal attempt.

Suddenly Asthaldo straightened on his mount's back, his eyes narrowing as he gazed to the direction of the north. "We shall have company," he stated at last, causing the riders to look at the direction of his gaze, even if the Men couldn't see what the Elf was seeing.

"Enemies?" asked Éomer, wordlessly commanding his men to a slower their pace.

"I cannot tell yet: they are still too far, even for my eyes. But wait a moment and I shall inform you more directly."

By then, the _eored_ had nearly stopped, the riders leaning nearer to hear the discussion. But no further words were exchanged, and Asthaldo guided his horse to the side of the riders, keeping a close eye upon the oncoming strangers. It took only a few seconds for the Sinda's eyes to recognise the arrivals. With both a surprised and delighted shout he spurred his old steed forward.

For a moment, the Men of Gondor and Rohan sat upon their horses, unsure what to do. Then Aragorn rode forward after Asthaldo, wondering what kind of welcome they were going to receive – and most of all, by whom? It took only a few hundred yards before Aragorn also understood Asthaldo's reaction.

"Galadhrim. If we are lucky, we shall hear tidings from the north. Come, let us not delay!"

In the meanwhile, Asthaldo had already reached the Elven company. He stopped his mount before those of his kin, dismounting with one graceful movement.

The Galadhrim had stopped and dismounted as they saw the other group draw near, and now waited in silent readiness.

Asthaldo circled around his horse to meet the other Elves, and then froze. His face adopted a look of one who is staring at the ghost of someone who was extremely dear. Right before the youngest Cousin stood Dínnor, and beside him the cause of Asthaldo's reaction: Thalión.

Though Thalión's own expression wasn't nearly as dramatic as that of his cousin's, it was also one worth seeing. A swift shock soon melted into relief, and Thalión stepped forward, putting his hands on Asthaldo's shoulders. "Asthaldo. Bless the Valar you are well. I thought the worse…"

" _You_ thought?" Asthaldo finally woke from his trance, returning the embrace with full force. " _I_ thought you were dead! But here you are, all safe and sound…" Asthaldo ran his eyes swiftly over his cousin's form, and decided that the elder one wasn't exactly 'sound'. But at least he was alive. "You made me worry for nothing," he finally breathed.

Thalión nodded, glancing swiftly at the arriving Men. Dínnor also looked like if he wanted to know what Asthaldo was doing here in the south, and especially in such a company.

Asthaldo didn't waste too much time in explaining, for he had questions of his own. "I was sent to look for help from the Rohirrim. When I left, we hadn't yet got everyone together. I lost the rest of my companions, but I made it to Rohan, finally. But what of you? How did you get here?"

Thalión glanced at Dínnor, who seemingly was going to be the one to tell their part of the story. "Thalión was taken prisoner with a few others – including Legolas. They escaped from the Orcs about a day ago. I was with the Galadhrim, escorting Lord Celeborn to join a group from Imladris. We took a short journey through Lothlórien, and then came across a dead Elf. Soon we found Thalión –" Dínnor glanced somewhat darkly at his cousin, "barely alive, and heard that Legolas also had escaped. Now we are trying to find Greenleaf before the enemy does. Most likely he has already reached Fangorn, but we cannot be sure how far he was able to go."

Asthaldo's face darkened. "You haven't found Legolas yet? That indeed is bad news. Wasn't Rafél with him in the battle? He should have taken care of Legolas…"

Thalión grimaced. "Well, Legolas' guardian was indeed with him, but they most likely were forced apart during the fight. At least Legolas was alone with Gimli when I saw them for the last time…" Thalión stopped short, his eyes dropping to the ground.

Asthaldo immediately grew alarmed. But before the youngest could say anything, Dínnor spoke:

"Gimli is dead."

Asthaldo's heart froze, and for a moment he thought that his cousin was joking. But Dínnor never joked of things as serious as this.

Right then, the riders arrived, stopping at the respectable distance from the Elves, only their Lords riding forward. When Aragorn drew nearer to the Elves, he nearly dropped from his saddle: before him stood all of the legendary Three Cousins. After all, it was not hard to tell they were the Cousins of Hithsîr: they stood out of the other Elves clearly with their differently braided hair. Besides that, they were much alike with the Galadhrim standing around them.

It seemed that the three were in the middle of a heated discussion, though one of them was barely saying a word and looked only half conscious. Looking at the style of the Elf's hair, Aragorn decided it must be Thalión.

One – who most likely was Dínnor – was talking at Asthaldo fervently, receiving only short replies. Aragorn tried to listen what was said, but then he felt someone lay a hand upon his right. Looking down to his right, the King of Gondor saw Haldir, who with a ghost of smile upon his lips stepped back slightly, bowing at Aragorn respectfully. "King Elessar. It is good to see that you are well."

"Haldir of Lórien. It is indeed a most blessed coincidence that you always arrive to us when our need is direst. It is well to see you again, my friend." Last time Aragorn had see Haldir, it was when the Elf had his brothers escorted him and the Fellowship through Lothlórien.

Before Haldir was able to reply, the Cousins had reached a decision in whatever matter they had discussed about, and stepped closer to Aragorn. "Prince Legolas escaped from the enemy captors and it is possible that he is somewhere near Fangorn, or in the forest itself. I think we should help with the finding of the Prince before we continue north," Asthaldo explained swiftly.

Aragorn's brains struggled for a while with this new piece information. _Legolas 'escaped'... But before you can escape you must be imprisoned. But so he said. 'Enemy captors'. Ah well, maybe I will hear the rest of this story when the time is more appropriate._ "Very well. If this suits to you, Éomer, then we shall continue with the Lórien Elves." Aragorn felt like thanking himself when his voice held itself steady and strong. He felt everything but that. Now Legolas was somewhere out there, possibly alone, most likely hurt… It seemed that his wish for a change to his boring routine had been heard somewhere. But this wasn't exactly what he had hoped. Not even near… He had hoped for a small, harmless adventure. This was disaster.

Éomer nodded, turning his horse to give his captains the needed orders. It seemed that the King of Rohan understood that Aragorn needed a moment with his thoughts, and so he didn't ask more about this new twist of events.

"Thank you."

Aragorn turned into the direction of a soft voice, meeting Thalión's powder blue eyes and a smile that was shadowed with worry. "Thank me not. Prince Legolas is also my friend and trusted companion." _To put it mildly. But I think the Elves understand the relationship between Legolas and me without further explanations. _

Thalión nodded, glancing at the direction of the forest. "We should hurry…" he whispered.

"And we shall, my cousin. Mount your horse and try to gather some strength. We cannot know what awaits us," Dínnor said sternly, pushing his younger cousin gently towards his horse. Too weary to argue, Thalión did as he was told, though rather solemnly. It seemed to Aragorn that the silver haired Sinda was determined to stay upright until he had found Legolas, even if that was going to be a difficult task. This idea arose new questions in Aragorn's mind.

As the group started forward again with a quick pace, Aragorn searched Haldir. "What has happened here? I have only heard that Woodland Realm was attacked."

Grey, eternal eyes turned to the King of Men, studying him for a moment. Then finally the Marchwarden answered. "Indeed Woodland Realm was attacked. Legolas and Thalión were among those few who were take prisoners. Soon after crossing Nimrodel the prisoners escaped. Or rather, one did: the others only made sure that Legolas would be able to escape. Thalión was the only one still alive, and even his injuries are grave." There was a soft snort from Haldir. "I would have forced him to stay behind, but Thalión insisted to come along, and his Cousin seemed only too happy to comply. But it is not my decision to make. They are definitely old and experienced enough to know their own limits."

Aragorn smiled, nodding. "It is a great relief to the Cousins to be together again, it seems."

"It is. Dínnor has been among my people for some time, and neither he nor Thalión were sure what had happened to Asthaldo after the battle. Asthaldo on his side seemed to think that Thalión was dead. Now we only have to find Legolas…"

Aragorn nodded sadly, eyeing the Cousins who rode together with two Elves from the Galadhrim. The King was vaguely able to remember that the female Elf was a close friend of Legolas'…

"Excuse me, my Lord…"

"Ah, Faramir. Is ought wrong?" Aragorn asked from the Steward who had slowly inched closer to him with his mount, Éomer near behind.

"No, nothing is wrong. King Éomer and I were merely looking for some explanations. Or information, actually," the Steward said uncertainly, glancing at Éomer for assurance.

"Information?" Aragorn asked, rising an eyebrow.

"Yes. About these 'Cousins'. We have heard you mention them many times, and we were wondering… who they are."

"Ah, I see. Well, I shall tell you, at least what I know, and that isn't too much," Aragorn laughed, relieved. "The Three Cousins of Hithsîr are great heroes among Elves. Known and respected warriors. Together they have fought in many great battles, but they were named after their first one: the battle of Hithsîr. In that fight, they alone killed hundreds of Orcs, and at that time they weren't much more than children themselves."

"Actually, there was only a hundred of Orcs or so, and we were closer to youths than children," Asthaldo said, a smile upon his lips. "But it seems you know our story quite well – Human as you are."

"Well, being raised in Rivendell has its benefits," Aragorn replied.

"Ah yes, Estel of Imladris, I should have remembered. Even if I haven't met you before, we have heard a lot of you – and not least from Legolas," Dínnor uttered, cocking his head to the side.

Mentioning of the Elf's name drew everyone silent, and the ride continued for some time without a single word uttered. They soon drew near the eaves of the forest, and the riders of Rohan grew more and more nervous. Even after all these years, the forest still looked dark to them. The trees seemed to shut out all the light, and the long, twisted limbs seemed to stretch out, ready to catch unwanted visitors. The wood was filled with different kinds of noises, not one of them inviting or soothing.

But this time it wasn't just the Men's imagination playing with them. Even the Elves were growing nervous.

"There is strange atmosphere it here," Khai said quietly, eyeing the forest distrustfully.

"The trees are alarmed by something: angered, even," Thalión said, guiding his horse slightly forward, his eyes peering into the gloomy shadows. He dismounted, and took a step forward. His horse, afraid that his rider would enter the forest, neighed loudly and pawed with his front leg. With a soothing stroke along the horse's neck, Thalión whispered something at the animal's ear, and the horse calmed immediately. "Something is going on. I think we should not try to enter without the permission of Fangorn."

"Permission of the forest?" asked Irolas, bewildered, making the Men of Gondor murmur around him.

"Thalión meant something else with his words: an Ent," Aragorn said, his eyes also turned into the direction of the forest. Roheryn started to move restlessly under him, neighing worriedly. It seemed that none of the horses were too happy to be in vicinity with the ominous forest. Aragorn ran a soothing hand down the animal's neck, whispering comforting words to the flattened ears.

"So how shall we contact this… Fangorn, then?" Irolas asked, eyeing the forest with a doubtful glance.

"Leave it to us, Man of Gondor," Haldir replied quietly, dismounting and motioning his brothers to follow.

"Are they going to enter the forest?" one of the Men shouted, rising more astonished shouts, making the horses even more nervous.

"Worry not. There shall be no harm to an Elf in any forest of this world," Aragorn assured his soldiers, and with that, Haldir and his brothers disappeared into the shadows of the ancient trees.

"What shall we do now, my King?" Faramir asked.

"We shall wait," Aragorn answered, and dismounted. It could be a long wait: a one thing they could not afford, but they had little choice but to do so. Entering Fangorn when the forest was like this wasn't an option. It would be a suicide. Legolas would have to survive on his own for a while longer.

As Aragorn led Roheryn a little further away from the edge of the forest, Thalión still stood staring at the darkness before him, chills running up and down his spine. Fangorn forest wasn't only angered and shocked by something: it was screaming for the blood of the Orcs, craving for the death of the foul beasts. Thalión had seen many kind of reactions from the trees during his long life, but this was definitely the most primitive one. Something terrible must have happened…

* * *

It was not until the next morning that the Marchwarden brothers returned – but they did not come alone. When the three Galadhrim emerged from the forest, they were followed by a creature that would have scared even a bravest of warriors out of his wits, but the company of Men and Elves only stood on their places, watching.

Most of them had seen an Ent before.

Aragorn rose from his place, walking towards the forest, stopping when he reached Haldir and his brothers. "I see your trip wasn't a wasted one," he stated somewhat dryly. The King of Gondor was as eager to move on as everyone else. The Man turned to meet the ancient creature that had stopped before them. "Old Fangorn, it is great pleasure to meet you again."

"Hrum, Hoom, it had been a long time since such a number of Men has dwelled on the edge of our forest. But I welcome you gladly, King of Men," Treebeard bowed slowly.

Aragorn bowed respectfully in return, and was about to say something, but beside him, Dínnor stepped forward. "Mighty guardian of a great forest, you sound as you have had trouble. It is as plain as my cousin can feel the agony of the trees. Would you not tell us what is causing this disturbance?"

Treebeard turned towards the eldest of the Cousins, a strange expression upon his face. Even if the Men didn't notice this, the Elves did, gathering closer. At length, Treebeard spoke again, his low voice rumbling. "It has been long indeed when this many Elves were seen this close to Fangorn."

"But have you seen any Elves lately?" spoke up Thalión, whose face was deathly pale, but his voice strong. "We have lost one of our companions, and we are trying to find him."

"Hoom, an Elf, lost. Well maybe I can help you by answering to both your questions." It seemed that the Ent realised that this was not a moment to rebuke about too great haste: the Elves were staring at him anxiously, and even some of Men. It was clear that the group was in great hurry to find their lost friend. "The trees are indeed restless. Many _búrarum_ has passed by during the last days. Filthy Orcs and other creatures." Treebeard spoke something for a while, lapsing to his own language.

But it seemed that the Elves didn't wish to wait. "Please, o Fangorn, tell us about our lost kinsman, if you know anything of him!"

"Know anything? Hrum, do not be hasty. Hoom, your lost companion is causing this distress in the forest, I may say. The Orcs hunted him into the forest a few days ago. But he ran right into huorns. Fortunate for him: the huorns destroyed the Orcs, but the forest had been restless since. Elven blood has been shed to the ground, and it is not easily forgiven by the trees, hoom."

Thalión swallowed with an effort, shuddering as he gazed into the forest.

"Blood had been shed, you say. So you mean our companion is hurt?" Asthaldo asked when no other did. "Or is he…"

"Not dead, hurm. But badly hurt. We Ents found him from the care of the huorns, but we couldn't do much. His injuries were grave."

"He speaks as if Legolas would be dead," Asthaldo muttered darkly.

"We do not know if it even is Legolas," Ithika put in. "It could be another of the prisoners."

But Thalión shook his head, face sad, eyes still upon the forest. "It is him."

Aragorn threw a quick glance between the Elves and the Ent, and then addressed Treebeard once more: "Please, tell us where we can find this Elf. He might be a close friend of ours, and we are greatly worried about him."

"I will show you to the young Greenleaf. But the Men must wait here, for the forest is dangerous right now."

A sigh travelled through the group, both relieved and disappointed.

"How did he know Legolas' name?" Éomer asked suspiciously.

"Legolas and Gimli travelled through Fangorn after the War: they possibly met Treebeard then, though they also met him earlier, when we came to Isengard after the battle of Helm's Deep," Aragorn explained absentmindedly.

"Aragorn should come with us: he is a healer, after all," Dínnor said, giving Aragorn a quick smile. Treebeard agreed to this, and they prepared to take a journey into the forest.

"Faramir, Éomer, I would ask you two to stay here, and keep your eyes open. Treebeard said that there has been Orcs passing by lately."

"Worry not, Elessar. We shall stay on our guard, and whatever Orc tries to pass us by, shall be stopped – once for all," Éomer said grimly. He of course wished to accompany the group going after Legolas, but he knew better than trying to emerge to the forest as hostile as this. "Good luck, and speed upon your journey."

"I wish you the same, my Lord. Maybe this will give us more news of the events in the North," Faramir added.

"I hope so, too," answered Aragorn, "but I don't keep it likely: Legolas and Thalión were both prisoners, and Thalión hasn't been able to give us much more information than we already possessed."

Near them, sudden angry voices rose to the air. "I am _not_ staying!"

"Yes you are, so don't question my authority, cousin."

"Authority? You have no _authority_ over me Dínnor. I am coming to see that Legolas is well – I won't rest before I know he is safe."

"Do as you like, Thalión, but you are not coming with us. You stay with the Men, and warn them if something happens. After all, you are the most sensitive of us –"

"Leave someone of the Galadhrim."

"I have made my choice."

"Without asking me!"

"Precisely."

There was a moment of silence, Thalión sulking over the answer.

Aragorn felt a pang of pity as he watched Thalión's face, knowing that the Elf only wished to see that his captured companion was well.

"They are close friends, Legolas and the Cousins," said a soft voice beside the Man. Aragorn turned to look at the light grey eyes of Khai. "They have befriended ages. Ever since Legolas started to be trained as a warrior."

"Legolas needs me," Thalión started again.

"The only thing he now needs is a healer – and his Dwarf, perhaps," Dínnor said, but his voice soon lost its sharp edge.

Aragorn frowned, and turned to Khai. He had spoke much with the Galadhrim while they had waited Haldir and his brothers to return, and he had learned that Khai and his brother Ithika were in close relationship with Woodland Realm's Elves, and especially Legolas. "Where is Gimli? I heard he was in Woodland Realm with Legolas when the attack came."

Khai's expression bore itself deep into Aragorn's mind, and memory of it lasting many years after. But the warrior didn't answer him, only lowered her gaze.

"Gimli is dead."

Aragorn tore his gaze away from Khai to look at her brother, Ithika. The other's face was completely truthful, sadness visible in his eyes.

"He tried to safe Legolas, but…" Ithika didn't dare to finish.

")A warrior's end,(" Haldir said, standing nearby.

They all fell silent. It seemed that Thalión had finally agreed to stay behind, as much as it pained him. Dínnor didn't look too happy himself, but everyone knew he had done the right decision: Thalión was nearing the end of his endurance, and there wasn't much he could have done in the forest anyway.

After the last instructions, a group of Elves plunged into the forest, Aragorn close behind. Led by Treebeard, the company travelled through the forest in tense silence.

Aragorn, lost deep in thought, didn't even notice as the miles passed by. Ithika's words still echoing in his head, he marched ahead, his mind in turmoil. The loss of Arwen still burned in his heart, and if Gimli indeed was dead… He refused to think about it. Maybe someone had been mistaken. As the Elves had said themselves, the battle in Woodland Realm and the aftermath of it had been such a chaos that it would have been no miracle to see the return of ones who were thought to be dead. After all, Asthaldo had thought Thalión dead…

But a dark voice in the back of the Man's mind laughed at Aragorn. It mocked him. Of course Elves would not say such a thing if Gimli was alive. It was something beyond daring. And Gimli would have never left his Elf alone in the midst of a battle – even less to the hands of enemies.

"We shall be there soon," Asthaldo informed Aragorn gently, pulling the Man away from his dark thoughts.

With a nod, Aragorn drew himself together and steeled himself. In this condition, he would be no good for anyone.

This part of the forest seemed to be even more shadowed than the parts they had already crossed. Trees tangled together, and silent voices filled the air. Aragorn remembered the time when he, Legolas, and Gimli had entered Fangorn in search for Merry and Pippin: these cracking sounds and hushed whispers were very akin to those sounds they had heard then. And the Elves around Aragorn were not less awed by this than Legolas had been. The only difference was that this time the Elves didn't stop to listen and gaze around: they kept walking, watching warily around, and Aragorn decided they understood what the trees were saying. Treebeard had already told them vaguely why the forest was acting like it was. But only now, as they drew near the source of the anger, Aragorn was able to fully understand what it meant to anger Fangorn. This was not a thing to play with. No story made justice for the feel of the fury of this forest.

With a wave of his limb-like hand, Treebeard told the Elves and Aragorn stay behind and wait. Treebeard himself walked a little further, and then spoke something with his own language. The forest hushed. From the shades appeared more Ents, their bodies blending together with the trees around them. Soon Treebeard returned, the green light of his eyes glowing in the shadows. "You may come now. But try to stay away from the huorns: they are still protecting the wounded one."

The Elves nodded, and stepped forward, Dínnor motioning Aragorn to follow him. They entered to a tall cave, or so it first seemed. But if one looked more carefully, he was able to notice that the walls and the roof were made by trees growing side by side, the treetops forming a ceiling that was thick enough to probably keep the rain out.

"The ground is still broken and unsettled: these trees haven't been here for long," Khai said, eyeing the forest floor near the feet of the trees.

")Huorns,(" Haldir nearly whispered, ")moving trees. Do not do anything to stir their anger: I can feel their rage easily enough.("

Aragorn glanced uneasily around him. He had never found out what had happened to those Orcs that after the end of the battle of Helm's Deep had ran to the huorns standing before the citadel. Maybe he didn't want to know. A desire to ask Legolas had sometimes tempted him greatly, but he had kept his silence, knowing that even the Elf probably didn't know. After all, Legolas had been amazed by the trees himself. But one thing was clear: not one of those Orcs was found later. And whatever had been their fate…

A soft gasp echoed in the enclosed space, and Dínnor rushed forward. An angry sound from above stopped the Elf, though, and he gazed up with both frustration and fear. As Aragorn also took few steps forward, he noticed the source of the Elf's reaction: in the end of the cave, on a bed of soft moss, lay an Elf, his pale, blood-stained skin glowing only faintly in the dark. Aragorn swallowed, looked about carefully, and walked forward slowly, trying to give the trees an appearance that he was here to help, not to hurt.

Aragorn knelt down, letting out his breath, not having realised that he had held it. As he carefully swept some strands of dirty hair away from the Elf's face, he was dimly aware of his other companions, who were approaching slowly. He didn't care, though. The only thing that mattered was the Elf before him. He didn't know if he was supposed to feel relieved or shocked: Legolas was alive, but his wounds were terrible. Some of them were days old, possibly received from the battle in the north. The others, more visible ones, were most likely caused by the hunt that the Orcs had given him.

"Legolas…" Aragorn whispered softly. There was, however, no response from the Elf. A touch of Dínnor's hand upon his shoulder startled Aragorn, and he quickly glanced at the Elf behind him.

Dun eyes were shadowed with inner pain and worry as Dínnor gazed at his long time friend. "What can I do?"

Aragorn smiled. "Help me to tend his wounds. Though I am afraid I may not be able to…"

"Don't say that yet, my Lord. Have faith for the strong lives of Eldar."

With a nod, Aragorn turned back to his task, just in time to miss the shadow washing over Dínnor's face.

* * *

Asthaldo leaned against the tree outside the 'cave', his face troubled. The Elves of East Lórien were scattered out near him, each in their own thoughts. They had been here nearly an hour now, but Asthaldo knew that rushing things would lead to nowhere. Aragorn needed time to tend Legolas' wounds into a condition that would enable them to move the Prince back to the Riders.

Frustrated, Asthaldo pushed away from the wooden pillar, walking around for a while. After noticing that he was pacing, he stopped again, gazing into the direction of the cave. With a sigh, he strode back in, not knowing what else to do. Maybe he could help, to make things move little faster. He stopped few yards behind his oldest cousin and the King of Men, watching with little envy as the two tended the wounded Prince.

"Ah, Asthaldo, come here and help us." Dínnor's words were quiet, and he did not turn around as he spoke them. In the back of his mind, he felt Dínnor's presence soothe him, telling his that it was alright if he felt afraid.

Slowly, Asthaldo stepped forward, suddenly feeling very young again. He always felt young when he was with Dínnor and Thalión – a feeling that he had tried to get rid of, but the habit had stuck hard. Even if he was only some centuries younger than his two cousins, he had always been the young one. Now that they all ware several _thousands_ of years old, Asthaldo still felt like a youth around his cousins. As he stepped closer to their patient, Asthaldo tried not to shiver. "What have you been doing all this time? You haven't yet even started to dress the wounds!"

"The bleeding had to be stopped first, or he would have died to blood loss," Aragorn explained, digging out bandages from a bag he had brought with him. "Find me more clean fabric. I think we will need more bandages than I was prepared for."

Orophin, who had been standing near the entrance, heard the words and went forth to tell to others. Soon he appeared back into the cave, bringing with him a pile of clean strips of various fabrics. With a silent smile, he gave his load to Aragorn and left again, knowing that he would be summoned if needed.

"All right, if you two help me to turn him around I will check his back before putting on the bandages," Aragorn said, reaching out for Legolas. The Cousins did as they were told, gently as possible rolling the unconscious Elf to his side. As soon as this was done, a horrified gasp came from Asthaldo. Aragorn cursed under his breath. Dínnor, his eyes hiding his emotions, reached out a tentative hand to touch the long, burned welts running down Legolas' back. But before Dínnor even touched the wounds, he snatched his hand back, with a small cry of pain.

"Evil. Those wounds… they are radiating with evil," the oldest Cousin gasped, inadvertently rubbing the hand that had nearly touched the injury.

"How didn't we notice these wounds before? They should have been tended among the first ones…" Aragorn muttered darkly, without daring to touch the welts.

"They are not bleeding. I think that is the reason why they didn't catch our attention. Though I should have felt this before…" Dínnor replied. "What caused these?"

"Maybe Thalión knows. I have no clue," Asthaldo spoke up. "But you are right, )_selen nîn_(: something evil caused this. Even I can feel it."

Aragorn had finally gathered his courage and touched the bruises, his brow furrowing. "The are burned. The bleeding has stopped long ago, though it was only minor. We better tend these, and ask your cousin about their origin: maybe he indeed knows something."

They dressed all of the wounds as quickly and gently as possible, and then drew a cloak warmly around their still comatose patient. Then they informed the others they were ready. The relief was nearly visible on the faces of the Elves, who seemed to be very anxious to continue.

Their way back through the forest was a rather quiet one, travelled as fast as possible. Dínnor carried Legolas in his arms, and Aragorn couldn't but think what the Prince would say when he heard about the way he had been treated when he was out cold… But whenever the King's eyes strayed to Dínnor, who carried his charge with uttermost care, he couldn't but think how the Cousins were acting whenever Legolas was concerned. It seemed as if the three were feeling personally responsible about the Prince's wellbeing,

Aragorn decided that he definitely wanted to hear how the relationship between the warriors of the ancient world and the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen had grown this great.

When the party at last arrived back to the waiting Riders, Thalión was first to meet them. Serenity was evident in the powder blue eyes as the Sinda spotted Legolas. That look didn't last long, however, when Asthaldo asked his question:

"Thalión, have you any idea where those… wounds… on Legolas' back came from?"

It seemed for a moment that Thalión had some difficulties to breathe. At last, he got the words out. "Balrog. I am not sure, but when I saw Legolas with Gimli, Legolas was already down, and the Balrog was there. I am note sure: I didn't ask him." Thalión fell silent, his face troubled and his words making little sense to those listening.

Asthaldo laid a comforting arm to his cousin's shoulder. "'I don't know' would have been enough, Thalión." A nervous laugh. "What are we going to do?" This time, Asthaldo's fallow eyes turned to Aragorn.

The Man glanced at Legolas. He had made his choice while they had walked back through the forest. Now it was time to voice it out. "Legolas' wounds are beyond my powers to heal: the shadow caused by them is dragging him deeper with every passing moment. We need an Elven healer. A powerful one of that."

"There is no such healers in Middle-earth anymore," Rúmil argued, his words hesitant as he used Westron.

"There is," Haldir said suddenly. "Lord Celeborn is both wise and powerful, and there still lingers Elves with great skill in Imladris."

"And it is very possible that the Sons of Elrond learned something about healing from their father," Khai added, her voice anxious.

"So we shall take Legolas to Imladris. But it is a long way. Shall he survive through such a travel?" Faramir spoke, for the first time.

"We use Elven paths, which are quicker than the main roads," Thalión said, his face gaining some colour at last. "Legolas is strong: he has survived this far, and won't give up any time soon. But we all cannot go."

"If I may suggest," Éomer said, his voice carrying clearly in the air, "I will take my men and go north, as we planned. We still do not know if the Elves of Eryn Lasgalen need our help."

Aragorn nodded, his eyes searching Éomer's, and he thanked the Man silently.

"We Galadhrim must return to East Lórien, I am afraid," Haldir said. "Our people will stay alert in the case the enemies appear again. But I wish you all good luck, and speed on your way," the Marchwarden bowed to both Aragorn and Éomer.

"I understand. Be careful," Aragorn replied, clasping hands with Haldir. He saw clearly the regret in the other's eyes, and upon the faces of the other Galadhrim, but they all knew that the Marchwardens had to return to their own land.

"We shall travel with you to the southern borders of Eryn Lasgalen," Haldir turned to Éomer.

The Northman nodded, accepting this. "Good, let's be on our way. We have a long way to travel." Éomer mounted his horse, his men following his example. Turning to Aragorn, Éomer added: "It is sad that our ways part this soon again, Elessar. Take care of the Archer."

"Indeed our travel together was short, King of Mark. But now I am keeping you from your way. When you reach the Elves…" Aragorn hesitated.

"I will know what to do, by then. After all, we cannot know what awaits us. Good luck," Éomer said, and the turned to his men, giving a command to ride north. Elves of East Lórien beside them, the Rohirrim rode away.

After Rohirrim left, Khai and Ithika still lingered among the Men of Gondor and the Cousins. "It is a shame we have to go and leave you like this," Khai said, her eyes falling upon Legolas. "Take care of Little Bird."

"We shall. Worry not," Asthaldo said, smiling.

"Khai, we must go," Ithika said. "They will be just fine, and you know it." He turned to look at Dínnor. "We shall inform the Men about the situation in the north as much as we can, and how to deal with Thranduil's people."

"Good. I leave them in your hands," Dínnor replied. "Go now, or you will fall behind."

With a laugh, the siblings turned their horses, and galloped after their companions, soon disappearing beyond the sight of Men.

"My Lord? Shall we leave at once?" Irolas asked from Aragorn.

Aragorn nodded to his captain. "Yes. Our way isn't short either, and the sooner we start it, the sooner it is over."

"You may travel through Fangorn if you like. We Ents shall take care that you won't be hindered."

Half of the Men nearly jumped out of their skins, completely forgotten Treebeard who was still standing on the edge of the forest.

"Thank you, old Fangorn. We appreciate your help," Thalión said.

"Well, if we are done here, I would suggest that we move on," Asthaldo said impatiently, calling to his horse who trotted to him, neighing happily.

"Yes, we are certainly done here," Aragorn said, and took Roheryn's bridles from Faramir. "Let's go." _And may the Valar see us safely to our destination, as well as our kinsmen._

_to be continued…_

* * *

**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**  
_Selen nîn_ - My cousin


	13. Chapter 11: Survival

"€…€" = Khuzdul

* * *

**Chapter 11: Survival**

* * *

**North from Eryn Lasgalen**

A company of four Dwarves walked along a path near the Forest River. They marched in a line, heads bowed, the hoods of their capes hiding their features.

Second in a line walked a Dwarf that was smaller than the other three, and it could be seen that his step was a lot lighter than the others'. The second Dwarf also kept stepping here and there, watching his surroundings with interest.

"€Fudal, quit that bouncing: it is getting annoying,€" said the Dwarf walking behind the smaller one.

"€Ah, Múran, let the youth explore. We do not travel this far south everyday,€" said the one walking in the head of the line.

"€You should keep the boy in some kind of order, Adír. He is growing to be irresponsible.€"

The Dwarf walking last laughed gruffly, and Múran shot him an angry glare. "€You disagree, Tráron?€"

"€I think there is nothing wrong with the boy: just too much unused energy.€"

Múran muttered something into his brown beard, his eyes shooting an annoyed glare at the young Dwarf who had by now travelled away from the path. Múran had nothing against youngsters, especially Fundal. Even if sunny, this just wasn't a day for his liking: a strange smoke filled the sky, bringing a smell of burned wood into his nostrils. They also were far from Lonely Mountain, and it worried the Dwarf. As much as some of his kin tried to assure him, he didn't trust the Elves a slightest. And right now they were too close to Elven lands for his liking. Sooner they got back to their own dwelling place, the better.

Tráron, watching Múran under his bushy dark eyebrows, shook his head. He well knew the other's dislike towards the Elves, but this was stupidity. There had been not a single Elf in sight during their entire journey, and somehow Tráron guessed there would be none later on, either. The air was too still, the smell of burned wood unnaturally clear. Like after a great forest-fire. And the nature itself was too quiet: no birds singing, or rabbits searching for food from grassy plains.

Tráron shifted his axe in his belt, glancing around with searching eye. No danger could be seen, but it could be felt. _Gah, I am starting to act like that Elf of Gimli's. Seeing and hearing and feeling things that cannot be seen. But being cautious is never a bad thing. Maybe Adír should call the lad back, after all._ Tráron turned his brown eyes to the Dwarf leading them, eldest one of this group, though only ten years older than Tráron himself. They were both seasoned warriors, as well as Múran. If there was danger, one of them would spot it in time.

Fundal was gazing in the direction of the river, which could not be seen, only heard from their path. _I say that Adír has done a great job with raising Fundal_, Tráron thought. _When the boy's mother died, Adír took his place as a 'father' well enough. Fundal will be a good lad. Maybe too energetic, still, but time will fix that. _

Fundal's father had died to the wounds he had received during the War of the Rings, and the son, born fatherless, had been raised by his mother's brother, Adír. Fundal's mother had died in childbirth, and so would have the baby, if there hadn't been an Elf. In that time, Gimli had returned back to his home from the War with an unexpected friend: the youngest Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas had been able to save the baby, but not the mother. Even if Dwarves spoke ill words about Legolas, Tráron wasn't blind, or a fool: Legolas had done what he could – the Elf certainly was no healer – and had saved what there was left to be saved.

Soon after this Adír had left to Glittering Caves with Fundal and many other Dwarves, and established there a new colony where Gimli ruled. Now Adír had returned back to north to meet his kin – with Fundal – and Tráron wondered if the two were going to return back to Aglarond. Possibly someday, but it was good for the youth to see other places of the world, as well.

"€Adír, I think I heard something! From the river,€" came a shout from the youth suddenly, making Múran jump and curse under his breath.

"€Let it be. We must keep going so we will reach the Mountain before nightfall,€" answered Adír.

"€But I heard something!€" Fundal argued, still standing where he was, near the edge of the thick growing trees.

"€Fundal…€" Adír sighed, warningly.

"€It was no forest's sound. After all the forest has been all quiet today! I heard.. a moan.€"

"€Why don't we go and see? In the case that the boy really heard something.€" Tráron suggested.

"€Aye, let's do that,€" Adír gave in, and the Dwarves plunged into the forest, some less happy than the others of the delay.

**

* * *

**

Gimli moaned softly and raised his numb hand towards his aching forehead. All he was aware of was aching, numbness, or pain. Various states of all those. As he slowly drifted closer to full awareness, memories started to return to him. With another, louder groan, he opened his eyes, and found himself staring at the green canopy of trees. Blinking, he tried to get rid of the blur hindering him from seeing clearly, without much success.

_Just my luck. I wonder where I am, and how I got here. Not on my own accord, I guess. I can't even properly feel my legs. Not a good thing, that. I should get up, not lie here like a toy tossed to a corner by a child._ With another groan, Gimli tried to push himself up, but found it beyond his current ability.

With a sigh, Gimli relaxed back to the ground. He had reached full awareness by then, but his vision still refused to work properly. _Maybe I got a hit to my head. After all, the pounding inside my skull could be caused by such a thing. Ah well, I guess I just have to try and work up with my memory to find out what happened. _

Gimli opened his eyes again, staring at the blurry green vision before him, and soon noticed he was shivering. It wasn't too cold out here where he lay, he marked, and frowned. On the edge of his hearing he was able to hear a silent sound of a river running, and a flash of memory returned to him. _I was in water, clinging onto something wooden, possibly a peace of barrel. But it does not make sense: what on earth I would have been doing in a river?_ Gimli thought, his brows drawn together as he tried to remember. He was certain he still wore his armour, and Dwarves did not swim – with or without their armour – anyway. _Well, I am all soaked, but still alive. I think I should consider myself lucky: Ulmo didn't wish to claim my life just yet. In my armour and all, I could have easily sank to the depths…_

Suddenly there was a sound nearby, a cracking of wood, and thumping of heavy feet. Alarmed, Gimli tried to get up, until he again remembered that he did not posses enough strength to do so. Cursing silently, he waited, trying to identify the arrivals.

"€Look, Adír! Isn't that a Dwarf?€" shouted someone, the voice sounding young, and yet unnaturally low.

"€For once, it seems you were right Fundal. Now step back and let me take a look,€" came another voice, older and rougher than the previous one.

Then Gimli's vision was blocked by a bearded face he knew well, and the Dwarf thanked the Valar in his mind. Gimli was about to speak, but the other silenced him with a raised hand. "€Do not try to speak, Lord Gimli. You are badly hurt, it seems. I shall first look for your injuries.€"

"€Is it really Lord Gimli? What is he doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be travelling with Prince Legolas?€" Fundal asked, trying to find a place to get a better look.

"€Bah, a Prince! I am more Prince than that insidious creature! I say the Elves deceived Gimli, and left him here to die…€" Múran muttered, fingering his axe and glaring at the forest as if waiting for attack. He also was Gimli's long time friend, but opposite to Gimli, he didn't feel a slightest hint of affection towards the Elves.

"€Múran, don't be ridiculous. If you have nothing better to do, come and give me a hand!€" Adír said sternly.

Gimli, on his side, hadn't been much aware of his surroundings after Fundal's words. His memory had returned by the words of the youth as a great mass of tangled pictures, but it didn't matter greatly if some of the pictures made no sense. _Ai, Mahal! Legolas… the enemy took him, dragged him away before my very nose… I betrayed the Elves, made Thalión's death unworthy… But who am I to take care of an Elf! Isn't he always boasting around that he can take care of himself just fine…_ Even as Gimli thought so, he knew he only tried to trick himself. He should have been extremely happy when he had dragged Legolas out of the caves of Woodland Realm _alive_, especially after what the Elf had been through with Balrog… Legolas had been nowhere near the condition to take care of himself, then. Where he was now…

With a shaky hand, Gimli grabbed Adír's arm, and tried to push himself into sitting position.

"€Please, Gimli, lay down. There is no need –€" protested Adír, pushing his long time friend back down gently as possible.

"But Legolas…" Gimli fought for words.

"He shall be fine. Now I am concerned about you, and so should you be. After all, the Elf would never forgive you, or me, if I would let you get up in this condition," Adír said very softly, keeping Gimli flat on the ground, changing purposefully to Westron, knowing it would calm Gimli more.

Exhausted, Gimli sagged back, his hand unconsciously finding the bird necklace around his neck. Fingers closing around the jewel, Gimli closed his eyes, trying to fight back the darkness that was trying to swallow him again, but failed.

Adír shook his head sadly, and then glanced up to his companions. "€We have to get him to the Mountain, and soon. He needs to see a healer.€"

The others nodded, and started to search for pieces of wood so they could build a stretcher. That wasn't a hard work, however, because the river and its shores were full of pieces of wood and broken tree limbs.

"€What do you think happened to him?€" Tráron asked quietly as he stood beside Adír.

"€I do not know, kinsman, but I guess we will find out soon enough. I have made out that much that he was possibly washed down by the river. Luck seems to be with him because he survived this far. He most like caught a hold of something floating, and was washed ashore here.€"

Tráron nodded, and continued with his work. Soon the Dwarves had found enough wood to build a litter and carry their hurt kinsman to the Mountain. As Múran and Tráron took up the task to carry Gimli, Fundal sprang ahead to seek a path they would be able to travel. Adír, standing near the river for a while, glanced to the forest, and his frown deepened. Something was clearly wrong, and he wish he knew what.

As his foster-son shouted his name, the older Dwarf abandoned his dark musings and walked after the others.

_to be continued…_


	14. Chapter 12: Refusing Aid

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 12: Refusing Aid**

* * *

**Eryn Lasgalen,**  
**near Woodland Realm**

The Riders of Rohan had parted with the Elves of East Lórien a few days ago. As Éomer drew closer to the borders of Woodland Realm, he began to feel more and more nervous. His tenseness also affected his men, and for the sake of all of them, Éomer tried to control his own uncertainty.

Éomer was at loss. He had no idea what he was going to face in the north. Maybe full destruction, or organised rebuilding. The Elves of Lórien had advised him shortly how to deal with the Elves of Woodland Realm, and suddenly Éomer had felt like he had never met an Elf before. The way he was supposed to treat with the other Elves didn't go along with his experience with Legolas.

Maybe it just was that Legolas was more tolerant and forgiving towards the Men than the rest of his kin. After all, Legolas had always accepted the culture differences between their races. That was no wonder – Legolas also befriended a Dwarf, and the culture differences between himself and Gimli were like the Misty Mountains splitting Middle-earth apart.

Éomer sighed, sagging slightly in his saddle. He had two main options: being welcomed as a hero among the Elves, or then his help could be denied because the Elves' pride couldn't take help from mere Men. _Well, we shall see what awaits us. If nothing else, we may learn new information of our enemies._

"My Lord?"

Pulled away from his musings, Éomer turned to look at one of his captains. He nodded for the Man to continue.

"I think we are coming closer to the borders of Woodland Realm, my Liege."

"And you came to such a conclusion, how?" Éomer asked with a good humour. Many of his men had accompanied him for a long time – when he yet was no King – and they knew their Lord well.

The captain smiled thinly. "Our scouts spotted an Elf only a mile north from here."

"Ah, I see. Well, let's not keep the Elves waiting," Éomer said, and they both picked up their pace, the rest of the _eored_ following.

They rode only a short time before Éomer also spotted an Elf waiting on the edge of the forest. The King of Rohan commanded his men to stop, and then he road ahead by himself, dismounting a few yards away from the Elf.

The Elf, in the meanwhile, had stepped more clearly into the open, and was gazing the Men with a look that reminded Éomer more about pure curiosity than disdain.

"Éomer of Rohan. I am… glad, that you have arrived this soon," the Elf said with pure Westron, though he halted in the middle of the sentence, as if uncertain what words to use.

The Elf was clad in the normal colours of Eryn Lasgalen – green and brown. He was shorter than most of the Elves Éomer had seen, but his light green eyes were intelligent. The weapons on the Elf's side told the Man that this was a warrior, and therefor should not be taken lightly if he chose to take hostilities against them. But Éomer saw no reason to be afraid of this Elf: his manners were perfectly respectable, not even a trace of mock in his smooth voice.

"Ah yes, we are _overjoyed_ you have arrived. And now you may take your smelling beasts back to your own lands," came another voice from behind the Elf, and another one of his kin stepped forward. His appearance was as cold as his voice, and his pale grey eyes held no friendship towards the arrivals.

The first Elf glanced at his companion heatedly, hissing something with his own language, gaining a snort from the taller one.

"Please, Shannai, do not be rude to out _honoured visitors_. Speaking a language they cannot understand is highly impolite," said the newcomer, plain Elvish accent in his voice. There was a forced smile upon his face that sent shivers down Éomer's spine.

"Please forgive my companion, my Lord. He had indeed no reason to be impolite himself," the one called Shannai glanced yet again to his companion. ")You have no reason to speak them like this, Urnsúl, and you know it.("

Urnsúl raised an eyebrow. ")Oh please, Shannai, spare me! Let your elders handle the Men: knowing you, they would only be invited to take a visit to our lands.("

Shannai's eyes grew cold, but he turned back to the King, ignoring Urnsúl completely. "My Lord…"

"No apologies, please. After all, we came quite suddenly ourselves," Éomer replied.

"Maybe 'suddenly' isn't a proper word, my Liege, because we sent the messengers. How are they? Seemingly they made their way to Rohan."

"Only two of them, I am afraid. Another of them died to his injuries short after. Asthaldo is currently travelling with his cousins and the Men of Gondor to reach Rivendell in time to save Prince Legolas –"

"Cousins? You said that in plural?" Shannai interrupted. "And what you said about Legolas?"

"Yes, both cousins. Thalión was saved by the Elves of Lórien, and as far as I understood, Dínnor was already with the Galadhrim."

"And Legolas..?" Shannai even took a step closer to the Man.

"Prince Legolas also escaped the captors, and we found him from Fangorn. They are taking him to Rivendell to see Lord Celeborn and some other more skilful healers."

Shannai pondered this for a moment, his bronze hair playing in the wind. "'They'?" he asked then. "Who is taking Legolas to Rivendell?"

With a raised eyebrow Éomer noted that Shannai used no title when he referred to his Prince. This astonished the Man, but he had no time to worry about it now. "There are the Cousins, and some Men of Gondor – including King Elessar."

Shannai nodded, and then smiled somewhat bashfully. "I am sorry, I guess I didn't pay attention to your words before. We didn't know what happened to either Legolas or Thalión… it was such a chaos," Shannai explained, and then muttered: "It still is."

"If I may ask something," Éomer began.

"Please, by all means," Shannai smiled at the Man.

"Where is Gimli? We heard he has… perished."

Smile disappeared from Shannai's face. He averted his eyes from those of the Man, and stared at the ground before him. "We haven't found him. Everyone believes he has indeed… perished." Shannai swallowed.

Éomer felt compassion wash over him as he saw the hurt and pain in the Elf's eyes. _So Legolas was not the only Elf befriending Gimli. _

"If you are quite finished here, I would like to remind you that the Men are not welcome to our land," came an irritated voice behind Shannai.

They had both forgotten Urnsúl.

Éomer glanced at Shannai, who was by then gazing uneasily at him.

"I am afraid he is right: though I wouldn't have used the same words." An angry glance was thrown towards Urnsúl, but the other didn't bother to react. So Shannai continued, his voice troubled: "You see, our King returned a few days ago, and when he heard we had sent for help… he wasn't too happy about it. I must inform you that your help isn't needed," Shannai grimaced. Seemingly he disagreed with the last one.

Éomer nodded. "I understand."

"You do?" Shannai glanced at him with surprised eyes.

"Yes." Éomer thought it for a moment. "Your King was not with you when the attack came?" he asked finally.

"That is no business of yours, _Human_," replied Urnsúl, his voice full of arrogance and contempt.

"Of course," Éomer muttered. He was able to feel his Men's nervousness. It seemed that they didn't like the current line of this discussion either. "So you don't need any help here?"

"Apparently not," Shannai said, his voice silent, "the enemy has disappeared to the wind, our people have been united again – those who stayed in the woods, that is. The King is back and life shall return back to normal." There was a smile upon the Elf's face that promised all but that.

Éomer nodded, memorising every word.

"You came a long way for nothing, it seems," Shannai continued apologetically.

"Worry not of that," Éomer tried to sound light. "We found Legolas, after all."

Shannai smiled carefully. "It will be great news to tell to our people." Shannai glanced over his shoulder to Urnsúl. Turning back to the Man, he continued: "I wish you good journey home, then, King of Mark. And thank you. I hope we can someday repay your trouble."

Éomer smiled. "Worry not of that. After all, we are fighting on the same side. I wish you luck – to all your people. May the Valar look after you."

"And you," Shannai replied.

Without further words, Éomer mounted again, and rode back to his Men. Wordlessly he commanded his men to move on, knowing that the riders had heard most of the discussion.

None of the Rohirrim dared to speak to their King, and so Éomer rode deep in his thoughts. Just before the forest was lost beyond the sight of Men, Éomer turned to look back. Shannai and Urnsúl stood where he had left them, looking after them. _Most likely making sure that we are indeed leaving_, Éomer thought in the dark corner of his mind. _Ah well, we can do nothing more. It is up to Elves now. _ "We ride home," he shouted, receiving only a few answering cries from his men in return.

* * *

Shannai watched the Men disappear to the horizon. Behind him, Urnsúl snorted.

")Our work is done here. They are gone.("

Shannai sighed inwardly, then turned on his heels, and walked back to the forest, ignoring his companion, knowing that that would annoy Urnsúl more than any words he could use. After all, Urnsúl was extremely arrogant Elf whose self-confidence was almost sickening.

")Shannai, we must speak,(" came a voice above from the branches.

Shannai glanced up, just making out the form of Thrénandu among the leaves.

")Better watch what you are going to say to the Captain. He can't be too happy with your deeds of today,(" Urnsúl winked at Shannai and disappeared to the forest.

Shannai looked after him, and then climbed into the tree where the Captain was waiting. ")Legolas was found alive,(" Shannai stated calmly, avoiding to look straight at Thrénandu.

")Yes, I heard. And stop avoiding my gaze, for I am not displeased with you. You handled the situation well, especially when taken into consideration that you had to deal with Urnsúl as well. I couldn't have done any better. Worse, possibly,(" Thrénandu laughed nervously.

Shannai smiled. ")And now what?("

Thrénandu pondered that for a moment. ")We should make sure the Prince Legolas is safe.("

Shannai nodded.

")But we cannot afford any of our own men. And we do not know if any of our folk stayed in Imladris: it is quite possible they all went to Havens…("

")We could sent Thaíly.("

")You trust too much to that man.("

")I do not, but Legolas does. And if Legolas trusts him, then I do. We could at least talk to him.("

")_You_ could talk to him. If you can find him.("

")He just arrived back to the forest. After the battle.("

")How very suitable to him,(" Thrénandu muttered.

")You know he is no enemy. And even if he is, he is playing Legolas' game, not that of the dark ones.("

Thrénandu nodded, slightly annoyed. ")You do your job and talk to him. It is better to have him away from our lands, anyway.(" With that, Thrénandu took a path back to the Woodland Realm.

Shannai stared after him for a while, and then took an opposite direction, praying the Gods this would work out…

_to be continued…_


	15. Chapter 13: Discussions in the Dark

**Chapter 13: Discussions in the Dark**

**

* * *

**

Eryn Lasgalen

A great dark horse neighed, informing his rider that they had company. The man clad in a black cloak didn't move from his place as Shannai stepped into a small clearing. The Elf walked slowly to stand near the man, keeping his distance – a show of both fear and respect.

The moon was shining bright, but the trees circling the clearing threw their shadows over all who stood in the open, leaving them in darkness.

No Elf – Shannai being no exception – feared the dark, but being enclosed in darkness with _this_ man made even Shannai glance around nervously. Thaíly always had that feel of terror around him. Maybe he had born with it, or simply developed such a thing to keep the intruders away from him. Shannai didn't know, and actually he didn't even wish to ask. Most likely the answer would not be to his liking, anyway.

"He is alive."

Shannai jumped as the deep, raspy voice filled the night air. After collecting his wits again, Shannai merely snorted. Of course Thaíly knew. He knew everything. Or that kind of appearance the man gave of himself. "King Aragorn took him to Imladris to be taken care of."

"Strider," Thaíly corrected.

"He is Strider no longer, but think as you like."

"You want me to go and look after Legolas." It was a statement, not a question.

Shannai shrugged. "Yes. I don't want anything to happen to him – after all he has been through. I would sleep my nights much more peacefully if I would know you are watching him – as you should." There was a slight edge in Shannai's voice.

"You wonder where I was during the attack? Why I wasn't here to protect your Prince?"

Shannai stared at the man, for once thinking he was going to get some answers out of him. It proved to be a false hope.

"Where I was and what I did is none of your business, Elf." Shannai's shoulders slumped. "But worry not: I shall go to Imladris and make sure Legolas will be fine. After all, I was going to go after him anyway," Thaíly said, rising from the place he had been sitting, dropping the hood of the cloak to his shoulders.

As the hood was removed, his features were revealed to Shannai, for the first time during their discussion. Not that Shannai would have wished to see the man's face: he had faced him enough times to remember it.

Seeing Shannai's reaction, Thaíly smiled, revealing his sharp, long eye-tooth. There were no wrinkles upon his pale face, and it could be easily seen that he had Elven blood in his veins. His eyes were dark as a starless night when the moon doesn't shine, hair dark brown and slightly wavy, just reaching his shoulders. His body reminded the watcher more about a structure of well-build Men, but he had the agility of Elves. After all, he was half-blooded. Another one of his parents had been a Man, another an Elf. Only few knew his story further than that, Legolas being one of them.

When Thaíly had been but a child, a bat-like creature had bitten him, which were called vampires. When his parent noticed that the child was affected by this bite – beginning to change into something else – they abandoned him to the wild, not being able to kill him themselves. When Thaíly grew up, he learned how to take care of himself, slowly discovering his new abilities that made him be a monster among other Men. He lived like Rangers, wandering the lands alone, never befriending anyone.

Slowly, he became a killer. Perfect assassin, with one fault: he held allegiance to no one, not to man, not to money. No mercy he gave to any, for no mercy was given to him. 'Blood-sucker' he was called, even if he didn't need to drink blood to survive.

That how he met Legolas and befriended the young Prince of Mirkwood was a great secret, and only few knew that tale. But many knew that the only one that had Thaíly's allegiance was Legolas. Those who knew something about vampires said that Legolas' blood was sacred to Thaíly: anyone who would harm Legolas and make him bleed, would pay with both his life and soul.

Shannai had never truly understood how Legolas was able to trust his life to the hands of this monster, but right now he had no alternative. Thaíly was the best choice to send to look after Legolas. The only choice…

Sighing, Shannai took a step back. "Don't do anything stupid: I'm sure you will know what to do without scaring half of the Middle-earth out of its wits."

Thaíly grimaced in return, as if Shannai would have just ruined some good plan of his. "Worry not, little Elf. If it is up to me, your Prince will return home in one peace."

"And alive, I hope."

"Don't ask too much from men like me," Thaíly laughed, his low voice making him sound like even more menacing. He walked to his horse, sliding his hand across the strong flanks. "What say you, Morisûl, shall we go? We have a long way to travel."

The horse shook his head, pawing with his leg.

Smiling, Thaíly returned to the place he had been sitting, and took few packs from the ground, binding them across his horse's back. Then he jumped lightly to Morisûl's back, and encouraged the horse forward, leaving Shannai to stand alone in the shadows.

After Thaíly had ridden some miles, he realised he was being followed. Slowing down, he finally stopped his own steed, waiting for the arrival to catch him up.

Only a moment later a white horse galloped to Morisûl's side, neighing happily. Morisûl welcomed the other one, and Thaíly patted Arod's neck. "You decided to join us? Come on then, let's go to see your master."

Arod whinnied, lowering his head and touching Morisûl's shoulder as if asking for permission to come. Morisûl snorted, tossing his tail, and touched Arod's long grey nose with his own dark dun one.

"If you two are ready, we could keep going, or else we shall still be here as the next leaves fall. And then Legolas would have to survive without us."

Hearing his rider's name called, Arod tossed his head to a side, dancing aside restlessly, and then stopped again, neighing softly. Without further words, the horses shot forward, soon disappearing to the dark forest, the sounds of their hooves soon fading into the night.

_to be continued…_


	16. Chapter 14: Healing in Sorrow

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 14: Healing in Sorrow**

* * *

**Rivendell**

Rafél travelled through the woods in the Valley of Rivendell, idly spending his time in walking without direction. He wasn't sure how many days he had spent thus. Too many, most likely, after his arrival to Imladris. As the Elves of Woodland Realm were making decision between staying in the Valley or going on to the Grey Havens, Rafél found himself often like this, wandering without destination, like a launched arrow without a target.

He was going nowhere. But he could not stay either.

For the first time in his life, Rafél was truly considering casting aside the orders given to him and do as his heart told him. Though there was no direct 'orders' for him, anymore: he had escorted the flying Elves over the Misty Mountains. His task was done. He was free to go on. But he wasn't sure what to do, or where to go. And as long as he was uncertain, he would stay in the Valley. There was absolutely no point to leave the Elven refuge if he wasn't sure what he was going to do next.

Or so he told himself.

Halting on a high mound, Rafél looked to the east, wind playing with his hair. His dark brown eyes were shadowed with worry, but at any other time you could have seen great wisdom there, experience of years gathered to those eternal mirrors of soul.

Running a gentle hand along the curve of his bow, Rafél stared at the distance, weighting his options. He could stay, or he could make up his mind and go on. But go where? Back to Eryn Lasgalen? There was nothing more than destruction there, but surely one more pair of hands would be needed, one more bow to defend his people from new attacks.

But above all else, there was one place that Rafél longed to be in: beside Legolas. He was worried about the Prince. Not knowing what had happened to his former protégé nagged his mind, keeping him awake during the long nights. His heart ached for the thought that something had happened to his Greenleaf.

Shaking his head, Rafél tried to quiet the yearning of his heart. He had stopped to be Legolas' guardian when Legolas had joined to the Fellowship, and it was not his place to worry overly because of the Prince. But he did worry. He couldn't help himself. Maybe it had become a habit: after all, he and Legolas had spent thousands of years together.

Sighing, Rafél closed his eyes, remembering well the day when he had seen Legolas return home from the War of the Rings: a return he had not expected to see. That day, his heart had sung with joy. Today, it was slowly withering to death.

Gasping for air he had not noticed he was holding, Rafél gazed up to the heavens, searching for an answer to his dilemma. But no answer came, at least the way the Sinda was expecting. Something happened, though. The forest's song changed, informing Rafél of an arrival of strangers.

Frowning, Rafél reached for a _neldoreth_ near him, closing his eyes to focus to the song of the _Olvar_. After a few moments, Rafél opened his eyes, staring at the direction where he now knew that a small party of Elves and Men was travelling towards Rivendell. The trees seemed confused, worried even, and Rafél wasted no other moment pondering: among these travellers were most likely wounded Elves, for there was no other explanation why the trees were behaving as they were.

Jumping to a nearby tree, Rafél set a quick pace towards the nearing group.

* * *

Aragorn glanced worriedly at Legolas who leaned against his chest, face pale and eyes closed. Not that it surprised the Man: Legolas hadn't awoken a single time after they had found him from the care of the huorns. If Aragorn hadn't known better, he would have thought that the Elf was in the same condition as when they found him. But he wasn't. Legolas' condition was getting worse with every passing day. Aragorn worried for his friend, the Man's frustration of his incapability to help driving him to the brink of madness.

Their travel over the Misty Mountains had been an uneventful one – none of them complaining, however – and now as they drew nearer the Valley of Rivendell, Aragorn felt his hopes crumble to the ground. It would take too long. Legolas would not make it. The Prince would die in Aragorn's arms, the King of Men unable to do anything to prohibit it…

"My Lord?"

The hard, nearly commanding voice coming beside Aragorn startled the Man from his thoughts, making him whip his head around in confusion. He had not heard such an authority used towards him for years. Somehow he wasn't too surprised to find Dínnor riding beside him. Aragorn looked at the Sinda questioningly, wondering what was causing the other's outburst. _Not that I couldn't have seen it coming: Dínnor loosing his temper was only a matter of time._

"You should not worry over Legolas so much: I understand that you are close to him, but therefore you should also have faith in him. Legolas is too strong of a warrior to give up this easily."

"We are reaching the borders of the Valley soon," Asthaldo informed them silently.

Aragorn, still quite shocked by Dínnor's words, merely nodded and readjusted his hold around Legolas' limp form. _Most likely Dínnor is right: I have seen what Elves are capable to withstand, and Legolas is strong. But even the strongest tree has to give up for the wind someday…_

They entered the Valley soon, Aragorn easily recognising the familiar landscape, and for a moment, his spirit felt lighter than in days. Memories flooded through his mind, easing the darkness out of his thoughts' dark corners. First time in may days, he truly felt the warmth of the shining Sun.

"We shall have company," Thalión informed, his voice distant. The others near him turned immediately to look about them, only the two other Cousins keeping still. "Elven company," Thalión corrected after some time, his eyes scanning the forest slowly. "Let us ride ahead: I am sure that the one approaching us shall find us easily enough."

"You can tell the number of Elves approaching us?" Faramir asked, sounding both doubting and bewildered.

Thalión smiled at the Steward. "I can. Or to be honest, the trees tell me. I merely listen."

"Oh," Faramir muttered, looking at the trees around him somewhat sceptically.

Aragorn couldn't help but smile, remembering all too well how sceptically he himself had reacted to the Elves' skill to hear the voices of the trees. He had soon learned to respect this talent, though, even if he was never able to learn it himself.

Before they were able to travel much further, an Elf emerged from the trees, his clothing telling Aragorn immediately that this was no Imladris Elf. Thalión and Dínnor both looked surprised, but Asthaldo laughed with joy.

"Rafél, you have no idea how much we have missed your company!"

"We have?" Dínnor asked with a smile on his own as Rafél dropped from the branches.

Aragorn watched the Elf approach, now easily recognising that this was indeed an Elf of Eryn Lasgalen, though his appearance was somewhat different from the other Elves' he had met before: his hair was long and smooth, its colour so light that it was nearly white, only a touch of brown on it. Rafél, as he had been called, had a flawless pale skin as the others of his kin, and he was well built by Elven standards, his appearance one of a seasoned warrior, confidence in his every movement. The weapons he carried told their own story, and Aragorn quickly decided this was not an Elf to play with. But what drew his attention most were the eyes; deep brown, shining bright with intelligence, telling of long years on these shores, and without doubt, of may battles witnessed. _One in not so distant past_, Aragorn thought grimly.

"Asthaldo, it is well to see that you made out of the battle alive. But aren't you both with Thalión supposed to be in–" Rafél halted in mid-sentence, his eyes drawn to the motionless Elf in Aragorn's arms. With an unreadable expression, Rafél reached Aragorn, his hands reaching out to touch Legolas' face tenderly. "What is wrong with him?" came a question that sounded deeply worried and pained to Aragorn.

"He must see a healer. That is why we are here: to take him to Rivendell, where we hope he can be mended," Asthaldo said hurriedly, and Aragorn couldn't but wonder where he himself had met Rafél before. The other Elf seemed distantly familiar.

Rafél nodded, his eyes never leaving Legolas. His hands moved over Legolas' face again, and then he drew away, almost reluctantly. "You will tell me later. But hurry now: he indeed needs to see a healer."

Looking very revealed, Asthaldo nodded, encouraging them on. Rafél followed them, taking a path up in the trees, but as far as Aragorn saw, the Elf wasn't letting Legolas out of his sight. While Aragorn was pondering this, they reached Rivendell.

* * *

Waking from a deep, dreamless sleep, Aragorn shifted upon the soft mattress, enjoying of the feel of the softness around him. It had been some time since he had slept in a soft bed, and as much as he loved life outside in the wild, he also enjoyed of certain comforts that a normal life provided.

Opening his eyes, he noticed that the room was already lit by an early morning light shining through the curtains. Rolling to his side, Aragorn prepared to draw his beloved to his embrace, but instead, he found the other side of the bed empty. Blinking, Aragorn wondered if Arwen had already woken and got up. But then he remembered. There would be no morning for him to wake and find her beside him, still asleep or already awake, waiting for him to join her in greeting a new day.

With an anguished sob, Aragorn lay back down, staring at the empty space beside him. Memories of yesterday returned to him, not one of them lessening his pain. Being in Imladris, in the home of Arwen, made his heart ache, his mind drawn by the thousands of memories of them together here.

Forcing back the tears, Aragorn turned to stare at the ceiling, willing his thoughts elsewhere. Instead of thinking of her, he recalled the events of the previous evening. They had arrived to the centre of Rivendell soon after meeting Rafél in the woods, a word of their arrival already spreading through the Elven city. Elladan and Elrohir had met them before the main-porch, Celeborn waiting with them, as well as many others of the household.

Aragorn had explained all he could tell, and Legolas had been taken inside. Thalión's injuries had also been take care of, though their main attention had been in the Elven Prince. Aragorn wasn't sure how may hours he had spent with Celeborn on Legolas' side before he had been take to his own rooms to sleep. By then, he had barely been able to stay on his feet.

Sitting up to the edge of the bed, Aragorn ran his hands over his face, drawing away the last tendrils of sleep. He felt no longer tired – physically at least. Spiritually, he was weary as ever. But he had things to do, and his 'errands' wouldn't run themselves.

Standing up, Aragorn started to search for his clothes. Smiling, he spotted a pile of clean clothes upon a stool near the bed. Reaching for the clothes, Aragorn dressed quickly, and then left the room to find his hosts. But before he went for a search of the Twins, he took another corridor. First of all, he would see how Legolas was faring.

A few moments later Aragorn reached a door of one of the healing rooms, and with a quick knock, he entered. The sight hadn't changed much from yesterday, the Man noted. Legolas lay on the bed, unmoving, no signs of improving visible. Celeborn was standing near the window, running through some pages of parchment. Near the bed, away from the healers' way but yet near enough, sat Rafél, his fair face leaning to his crossed hands. For a moment Aragorn wondered if the Elf had left Legolas' side at all. Most likely not.

"Ah, Elessar, good morning. I hope you slept well?" Celeborn's deep voice interrupted Aragorn from his thoughts, and the former ranger turned swiftly to meet the Eldar.

"I slept well, thank you. How is our patient?"

There was a plain sign of distress upon Celeborn's face before the Sindarin Lord was able to collect his thoughts. "I would say he will live. For a while at least," he added barely audibly, glancing at Rafél who seemed to ignore them both. Yet it was likely that the warrior was listening their every word even if he gave no outer sight of that.

"You give him little hope, then," Aragorn stated, downcast.

Celeborn lifted a comforting hand to Aragorn's shoulder, his grey eyes directed steadily to the Man before him. "His wounds are.. grievous. Especially when I have a good idea what caused them." The Lord of the Galadhrim grimaced, shuddering slightly at the memory of the feel of the darkness in the certain injuries Legolas had received. He shook his head sadly. "If I would have seen him in Fangorn, I would have spared him from further pain then and there. But I am glad you didn't do so: he has fought for this long, so perhaps he shall survive. I would not give that thought too much hope, though."

"There is always hope," Aragorn whispered.

Celeborn nodded, his eyes suddenly very thoughtful. "I am sorry," he said, drawing Aragorn's attention from Legolas to himself. "I heard of Arwen and the Lady of Rohan. Most likely your brothers know as well, by now," Celeborn continued, referring to Elladan and Elrohir, who had been Aragorn's foster brothers during the years Aragorn had grown under Elrond's care in Rivendell. Even after all these years, Aragorn still thought those two as his brothers.

"How did you hear about this?" Aragorn asked cautiously.

"News spread," Celeborn answered. "I heard from the Cousins of Hithsîr after you went to bed. They most likely heard it from the Men of Gondor who are travelling with you."

Aragorn smiled wryly. "Long be blessed the Elven hearing…"

Celeborn didn't make comment to this, instead changing the topic. "There should be still some breakfast left in the dining hall. You must be hungry. I also presume you wish to talk with your brothers face to face."

"Indeed I do," Aragorn said, his gaze again falling to Legolas.

"Legolas will be fine here. If I leave, Rafél shall stay with him. Now go," Celeborn encouraged, and with final look to his long time fried, Aragorn left the room to fetch himself something to eat.

Reaching the dining room, Aragorn noticed he was not the only one eating late: the Three Cousins were seated around a long table, their low voices locked into a conversation. As Aragorn approached, they all hushed, turning to meet him, rising to salute him properly.

"Please, leave that," Aragorn waved with his hand, somewhat embarrassed that he was treated so even by Elves: after all, he was King of _Men_. "How do you feel?" Aragorn asked from Thalión, noting the other's properly mended injuries.

"I feel as fine as I can," Thalión smiled, and Aragorn assumed that the other one was feeling fine: he had got colour back to his face, and all in all, he looked much better.

"Good," Aragorn replied, going to get himself something to eat. When he had got himself a plate of food, he sat down beside the Cousins, eating in silence.

Soon, two figured burst through the doorway to the room, though one could have thought there was only one arrival. ")_Suilad_,(" the twin-sons of Elrond called as one, throwing quick smiles to everyone.

"Ah, Estel, it is nice to see you have rested," Elladan said, sitting beside Aragorn.

"Indeed, you look much better than last evening when we dragged you to your room," Elrohir continued, sitting beside his elder twin. "Or carried, rather," the Half-elf continued smirking.

"I feel rested, thank you," Aragorn mumbled.

Elladan nodded, his eyes dropping to Aragorn's plate, his dark brow furrowing. "Is that all you are going to eat?"

Aragorn looked to the Prince of Imladris, then to his plate. "I have eaten most of it…"

"Oh, do not try that game with us, Estel," Elrohir snapped. "How long have you been eating this poorly?"

"I haven't got much appetite…" Aragorn murmured, his eyes dropping to the table. Next glance to the twins revealed him that the others had taken the point, their youthful faces darkened by an unnamed shadow: a shadow Aragorn was only too accustomed to feel upon himself these days.

"We shall speak of her later," Elladan reassured, his brother echoing with a nod.

")_Hannon le_,(" Aragorn stated gratefully.

"If you excuse us," Dínnor cut in, "we would leave you now: Imladris has very beautiful gardens, and Lord Erestor promised to show us the library."

"Of course, my Lords. In the case you need anything, just ask," Elrohir smiled.

The Cousins nodded, sitting up from the table and disappearing out of the door.

As soon as the warriors were out of the earshot, Elrohir bounced excitedly, playfully elbowing Aragorn. "Truly you have done it this time. Travelling with the Cousins of Hithsîr! At least you had brains enough to bring them here for a visit."

"I met them purely by accident," Aragorn said, amused. He had awaited this kind of reaction form the twins, but truly seeing it himself was different than a mere thought.

"Surely," Elladan laughed. "All three of them ran into you only by an accident."

"Yes, to be honest," Aragorn stated. "But I am sure the reason why they ran into me are far less light reasons."

The smiles covering the identical faces swiftly faded. "We heard of the battle in Woodland Realm," Elladan begun.

"We have many here in Imladris who have sought for a safe harbour after the attack," Elrohir continued.

"Which reminds me," Aragorn interrupted, "from where I remember Rafél? He seems only too familiar, but I can't get catch of the memory."

"Why, the last time you saw him was most likely when the Fellowship departed from Imladris. He was here then," Elrohir began.

"He came with Legolas from Mirkwood," Elladan continued. Seeing Aragorn's frowning look, the elder twin continued. "He was Legolas' bodyguard."

Aragorn glanced up by this comment, everything suddenly falling to place. "Of course," he said, "I must have met him on my short journeys to Mirkwood." He settled down more relaxed now that this riddle was solved.

"We have heard terrible things from our kinsmen of the north," Elrohir pressed, shuddering. "And Legolas' wounds prove that most of those wild stories were indeed true, even if we didn't want to believe them at first."

"Many horrible things have taken place upon this earth lately," Elladan said, his voice bitter.

"Maybe they have something to do with each other," Elrohir whispered in silent despair.

Aragorn looked to his brothers somewhat guiltily, but the others were swift to notice this.

"Do not blame yourself of our sister's death: you have already punished yourself hard enough of it," Elladan said softly.

"We spoke with Faramir this morning," Elrohir confessed. "He told us what happened, and what you have found out by far."

"Which is nothing," Aragorn spat.

"Do not fall to despair: we shall find out the truth someday," Elladan threw an arm around Aragorn's shoulders. "It may not look like so, but Anor still shines. There is –"

"Still hope," Aragorn ended, not quite believing the words himself anymore.

"Believe in what you say, or say naught," Elrohir said grimly, and they sat together in silence, not daring to voice their thoughts, merely drawing strength from each others' company.

* * *

"How does he fare?" Glorfindel asked, his eyes directed into the young Prince before him even as he spoke to the Lord of East Lórien.

"Not better, not worse. I am not sure if that is alarming. I have counselled with the healers of the house, as well as with the Sons of Elrond, and we all are in equal loss," Celeborn answered, stepping to stand beside the Lord of the house of Golden Flower. "But he lives still."

Glorfindel nodded, stepping closer to run a hand over a feverish face. The urge to snatch his hand back was great, the darkness radiating from Legolas assaulting his Elven _fëa_. "This cannot continue," the warrior muttered to himself. "If this shadow does not pass, he will not survive."

"I am afraid that the shadow has already bested us: it refuses to pass."

"Then try harder! Surely your kinsman's life is worth a great battle, especially as young one's as Legolas."

Celeborn stared at Glorfindel in silence, wishing that it as easy as the other said. But it wasn't. There was no great healers on these shores anymore, though some dark, pessimistic voice in the back of Celeborn's mind assured him that no healer could have helped the young Sinda: Legolas was beyond help.

"Give him time," joined a third voice, and the two Elves turned to meet Rafél who stepped into the room. Even if the ancient warrior's face was tired and pained, there was still fire in his eyes.

_Maybe he is right: Legolas only needs time. After all, Rafél knows Legolas like none of us does. Yet I doubt…_ Celeborn thought, merely nodding wearily at his kinsman, not sure what he had just agreed in. _Most likely into nothing else but more waiting._

Rafél, truly not interested what the others thought, sat beside Legolas again, preparing himself for a long wait if needed. But he would stay here with his Prince, whatever happened.

Watching the scene before him, Glorfindel was able to feel little but sorrow for the Sindarin warrior, who faithfully waited beside his protégé. With a sigh, Glorfindel bowed to Celeborn and left the room.

* * *

Just when Aragorn was preparing to leave the Hall of Fire and go to the gardens for a walk, Erestor rushed in, his robes dangling after and around him. "Aragorn," the Elf's clear voice called, "Lord Celeborn had requested you to join him in Prince Legolas' room most urgently."

"Has something happened?" Aragorn asked alarmed, his fears rising immediately.

"I am not sure," the advisor answered, stopping before the Man.

Aragorn's eyes narrowed, his thoughts exploring the possibilities. "Which do you think: are the news about Legolas going to be positive, or is there something wrong with him?" Obstinately, Aragorn avoided thinking what those 'wrong' things may be.

"He didn't say…" Erestor halted, his brow furrowing. "But I would say that Lord Celeborn seemed to be less desperate looking than before, so it might be that he has something good to tell you."

Aragorn let out a long breath, clasping Erestor's shoulder thankfully. ")_Hannon le, mellon nîn_.(" With that, Aragorn walked to a corridor, preparing himself for any kind of news. It was days from their arrival to Rivendell, and yet Legolas hadn't improved a slightest. Now would be a high time for it…

His hopes high, Aragorn reached the door of Legolas' room, and entered without knocking, knowing that he was expected. Celeborn greeted him as he entered, but Aragorn's eyes were glued on the bed where his friend lay from the moment he opened the door. If nothing else, Legolas looked better. There was colour on his face now, the feverish flush gone, and his breathing was easy.

"He is going to wake soon," Celeborn said beside Aragorn, startling the Man out of his wits.

"Wake?" Aragorn stammered in disbelief, turning to look at the former Lord of Lothlórien. Celeborn nodded, his eyes both serious and – for the first time in days – hopeful. Aragorn turned back to the bed, taking a few hesitant steps that took him to Legolas' side. On the other side, Rafél watched him approach with a ghost of smile, the older Elf slightly amused by Aragorn's open display.

At the moment, Aragorn couldn't have cared less. He felt ready to cry, the frustration that had built upon him since Asthaldo's news in Rohan rumbled down, making him feel extremely light inside.

Seating himself down, Aragorn prepared to wait, his eyes never leaving Legolas' face. He didn't have to wait for long, however. A soft moan tore itself from the Elf upon the bed, and Legolas shifted restlessly, tossing his head from side to side.

Rafél laid his cool had upon Legolas' forehead, murmuring soft words of comfort and safety. The brown eyes met Aragorn's grey ones briefly before again directing themselves to the matter at hand.

"Legolas," Aragorn said softly, ")it is time to wake, my friend. The shadow had passed and you may walk free.("

Momentarily, Legolas' distress seemed to grow, and Aragorn looked up to standing Celeborn for answers. When he found none, the Man continued his attempts to rouse the Elf. "Legolas, wake up."

This seemed to help, for Legolas calmed a little, his breathing slowing down gradually. Then his eyes fluttered, and the blue eyes were staring up at them with deep confusion. Blinking, Legolas adjusted his eyes, finally seeming to recognise the people around him.

"Welcome back, my friend," Aragorn said, meeting Legolas eyes as the Elf turned to the direction of his voice.

"Aragorn…" Legolas voice was raspy and low, but at the moment, Aragorn was completely happy with it. Hearing his friend speak made the last shreds of terror disappear from his mind. Aragorn couldn't help but smile, and soon Legolas answered to it with a small, tentative smile on his own.

"Where am I? What happened?" the Prince asked, his eyes shifting to Rafél, and Aragorn was able to tell that some of Legolas' uncertainty passed as he felt his protector at his side.

"How much can you remember? Otherwise, I am afraid that the account of the events can be a rather long one," Aragorn stated.

Legolas' brow furrowed as he thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. "There was celebration in the Main Hall," blue eyes met those of Rafél to confirm his memory before he continued. "Then… there was an attack… and we fought." Legolas halted, shuddering despite himself, his face suddenly shadowed. "I remember pain," he whispered barely audibly. It seemed that Legolas' memories were suddenly much more broken than before. "I was out on the grass and Gimli…" At this point, Legolas' hand stole up to the place of the necklace no more hanging around his neck. His eyes darted down, not daring to meet anyone's gaze.

Aragorn shifted nervously, easily sensing the distress of his friend. "Legolas, what is it? Do you not feel well?"

Slowly, Legolas turned his head to meet Aragorn's concerned eyes, and the Man was startled by the sight of his friend: seldom did he see Legolas cry, and the despair and pain upon Legolas' face was heartbreaking. "I am so sorry Aragorn. I tried to help him – warn him – but I couldn't. He tried to fight all of them, and more kept coming all the time. He just couldn't win. And I did nothing to help him…"

"Who fought with whom?" Aragorn asked, confused, even as he feared he knew the answer.

"Gimli," Legolas gasped, closing his eyes against a new wave of tears. "He fought the enemy, trying to protect me." Legolas gazed at Aragorn again, tears running down his cheeks unchecked. "I am so sorry…"

Aragorn, terrified by the total breaking down of his strong, proud friend, did not know what to say. Instead, he drew Legolas gently as possible to his arms. Legolas clung to him with desperation, nestling his head to his chest, crying his soul out. _Maybe it is a first time he truly realises that Gimli is… lost. Most likely he had no time to mourn before, and now he seems to hold himself responsible to me that we lost the Dwarf._ Possessing no words of comfort to his friend, Aragorn merely held Legolas, giving him all the support he could.

After some minutes, Legolas fell back to an uneasy sleep, and Aragorn laid him back to the bed gently, only to notice Rafél eyes upon him, the ancient Sinda wearing a strange expression.

_to be continued…_

* * *

_Olvar_ – growing things with roots in the Earth  
_Fëa_ - Spirit

**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**  
_Neldoreth_ – Beech  
_Suilad_ - Hello  
_Anor_ - Sun

**Author's Notes:** To correct myself, I will explain here some things: when Rafél in the beginning of the chapter thought about Legolas' joining to the Fellowship, that story-line is told in "After the Council". And the moment of Legolas' return from the War is from the story "First Impressions".


	17. Chapter 15: Short Counsel

**Chapter 15: Short Counsel**

* * *

**A Few days later,**  
**Rivendell**

Aragorn stood on the doorway of Legolas' current bedroom. The Elven Prince was asleep at the moment, and Aragorn found himself reluctant to enter, for that would most likely rouse Legolas from his much needed rest. So instead of entering just yet, Aragorn leaned against the doorframe, letting his gaze rest upon his friend.

Legolas was healing nicely. Most of the bruises and wounds were already vanishing, and Legolas seemed to fare better when it came to Gimli. Even if Legolas still felt guilty about his friend's death, it seemed that at some level, Legolas was beginning to accept that Gimli was gone. Yet Aragorn worried for his friend. As an Elf, it wasn't necessary for Legolas to understand death. Elves didn't die like mortals. They could die to a broken heart or be slain, but their _fëa_ would still live on. So in truth, Elves never died: their spirits merely went elsewhere.

His thoughts drawn to Gimli, Aragorn glanced down at the beautiful necklace he was holding in his hand. It had been taken from its place around Legolas' neck when he was brought to healers' care, but now Aragorn thought it was time to return it to its owner. What reaction this would create in Legolas, he wasn't able to guess.

And there was also another thing that worried Aragorn: the long gashes in Legolas' back didn't heal as he would have liked them to. They visibly pained Legolas, and the evil feeling in them made Aragorn's skin crawl. Once again the King of Gondor found himself cursing the dark creations of Arda.

And yet this raised new questions: what might on earth could have summoned a Balrog? After all, they all had thought that the last one of that kin had perished in Moria. But seemingly they had been wrong. _But if there was one Balrog in Moria, who knows how many others there is in the dark places of the earth?_ Aragorn reasoned. But surely there was a reason why the Balrog had attacked the Elves of Woodland Realm. And such a number of Orcs in one place…

"Your thoughts seem dark, my Lord."

A voice coming from behind Aragorn made him startle slightly, again causing him to wonder how his skills had lessened after becoming a King. Nowadays, people were even able to creep up on him. Turning his head, he met pair of brown eyes squarely. "Rafél," he said evenly, bowing slightly.

Rafél stepped beside him, his eyes softening as he also watched the Prince. A slight smile curved his lips, and Aragorn wondered what kind of memories were running through the guardian's mind. But the smile soon disappeared, and Rafél turned his head to look at the necklace in Aragorn's hands. "I may give that to him if you wish," he stated softly, his eyes lifting themselves to look deeply at Aragorn.

"Thank you, but it is not this jewel that bothers my mind," Aragorn replied, his eyes glancing swiftly at his sleeping friend before returning to the Elf beside him. "Though I am not the only one in these fair halls that has dark thoughts."

Rafél nodded, agreeing in this. Without further words, he entered the room, taking his place in a chair beside the bed. Aragorn followed him swiftly, taking his own place. Neither of them spoke, both in their own gloomy thoughts.

As if disturbed by the silent tension in the room, Legolas sighed softly, his eyes blinking few times to get rid of their sleep-hazy state. Smiling up to his guardian and friend, Legolas stretched, shifting slightly in discomfort. Aragorn looked like if he wished to tell the Elf to stay still, but one annoyed look from Legolas kept him silent.

The Man had been truly amazed that Legolas had been willing to stay in bed for this long, though Aragorn knew that all the credit of that went to Rafél. A few stern words from his guardian kept Legolas – sulking – in his bed without further objections. Silently, Aragorn admired the older Elf's skill to control Legolas: after all, the youngest Prince of former Mirkwood was a stubborn and a proud creature. But most likely Rafél and Legolas had settled these matters centuries before…

"How do you feel?" Rafél asked quietly.

"Better," Legolas smiled, glancing at Aragorn, then back to his bodyguard. "You came here for a reason?"

Aragorn chuckled, nodding. "At least I did," he said courtly, glancing meaningfully at Rafél. "But I think he doesn't require a reason to be here."

Legolas opened his mouth and snapped it shut again, deciding that he had better to stay quiet. "And you are here, why?"

It was Aragorn's turn to shift in discomfort, and Legolas frowned, sensing the Man's uneasiness. "I brought you something," the King of Men finally said, sounding all but a Lord of his people. When Legolas merely waited in silence, Aragorn collected his courage, presenting the necklace in his hands. "I thought you would like to have this back," he said barely audibly.

Legolas eyes didn't even blink as he reached carefully for the jewel, gently taking it to his hands, folding his fingers around the bird, almost like protecting something fragile. His eyes glued to his hands, the Prince refused to meet his companions' eyes. "Would you leave me alone for a moment?" he finally asked, his voice pure of emotions, though Aragorn knew that Legolas was in the middle of an inner struggle to keep a calm face.

With a nod from Rafél, Aragorn rose, quickly squeezing Legolas' shoulder before leaving the room. He was able to hear small 'thank you' from Legolas before Rafél guided him out, closing the door after them. In the corridor Aragorn stood, fighting over a feel of dread. Maybe he had been too quick in returning the necklace. After all, did any of them know how Legolas was coping with the truth that his best friend was dead…

A comforting arm on Aragorn's shoulder indicated that Rafél was aware of his thoughts' current paths. "He just wishes to be alone with his thoughts. You would be the same: joy is to be shared, but grief is to be grieved alone. Though not all tears are those to feel shame about…" Rafél fell quiet, glancing remorsefully at the closed door.

Aragorn saw that, grim smile spreading upon his face. "And yet even if we know we would act the same in his position, we cannot accept that we are not allowed to comfort him."

Rafél opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again, bowing slightly. Aragorn frowned, then looked behind himself, nearly jumping out of his skin when he realised that Elladan was standing behind him.

"My forgiveness," Elladan said little less convincingly than he could have. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Thought on the past days you would have easily –"

"You came here for a reason?" Aragorn asked with an irritated voice, for his own surprise repeating Legolas' earlier words.

His fair face shining with mock hurt, Elladan answered, "Glorfindel wished to meet all of us in the Hall of Fire. Or actually it was Celeborn, but he sent the word through Glorfindel, who in turn told me to seek out you both," he grinned, making Aragorn shake his head.

Rafél looked at the two of them, amused, and nodded. "Then we had better not keep our Lords waiting."

Aragorn glared at Elladan, who smiled back at him, and together they headed to the meeting place. When they entered the Hall of Fire, the others were already seemingly there. Elrohir stood in a small group, speaking with the three Cousins. Celeborn and Glorfindel were conferring silently in another place, Erestor standing nearby, listening rather that taking part to the discussion. Faramir stood a little distance away from everyone else, looking like as if he thought himself too less of a being to be in the same room with so many Firstborns. The Steward looked relieved when Aragorn entered, quickly approaching his King. "My Lord," the younger Man saluted.

"Steward," Aragorn returned, guiding himself closer to Celeborn. At the sight of the last ones' arrival, all discussion ended, and everyone drifted closer to the Lord of Lothlórien.

"Aragorn," Celeborn greeted with a deep voice. The grey eyes searched Rafél quickly, a silent message passing between them. "Now as we are all here," Celeborn began, "I would wish to say a few words." A steady gaze swept over all in the Hall. "We all have been concerned about Legolas' state and healing during these days, and now I may comfort you that the Prince will survive."

A chorus of relieved sighs passed through the room, some of the group already knowing this fact. But it seemed that Celeborn wasn't finished. Glorfindel cleared his throat, silencing the started voices. "What worries me more is his recovering," Celeborn said, his voice low and quiet, yet all the ears in the rooms were able to hear his voice without trouble. "The wounds caused by the Balrog have slowly began to heal, but one thing is sure: they will leave an everlasting mark upon his skin. As for the rest of his injuries, I have high hopes. It will take time," he said, his gaze mainly upon Rafél now, "and we must be patient both with him and ourselves. I would counsel that he remains here in Rivendell as long as his recovering is taking place."

There were approving nods from the crowd, and Celeborn nodded finally, ending the debate. "Estel, I would wish to speak with you," he said, and after gaining an answering motion from the Man, he walked out of the door, Aragorn following him suite. They walked slowly through the gardens, mist playing around them in the fresh morning air. A bird sang somewhere in the distance, its lonely voice drifting through the air.

"Your grief will age you before your time if you do not guard it," Celeborn said finally, his gaze resting upon the Man walking beside him.

"I have many reasons to grieve at the moment," Aragorn said sullenly.

"Arwen's death brings pain for us all," Celeborn said, his thoughts pulled to the day when his own daughter ¬– Arwen's mother – had been attacked by the Orcs: an attack that had caused Celebrían to sail over to the West. "But as I heard the Cousins say to the Twins earlier: 'Our sorrow never fades, nor it is forgotten, but it dulls. What first seems impossible shall by the due of time turn out to be on our reach.'"

Aragorn nodded, accepting his elder's words, seeing the wisdom in them. They walked for another moment in silence, until Celeborn halted, turning to face Aragorn.

"Long you have been away from your people, Elessar. No more can you do here, but in Gondor, many things lay at waiting for you." Celeborn paused, meeting Aragorn's eyes with his own. "I portend bad, though I do not know why. Ride back home, as soon as possible."

Aragorn nodded, his eyes filling with dread. Celeborn was one of the oldest of his kin on these shores, and his skill for foreknowledge was not to be questioned. "I shall ride tomorrow, for right you are: too far I have escaped my duties into a cloak of sorrow and self-hatred. It is time to go home."

Eyeing Aragorn carefully, Celeborn smiled vainly, raising his hand to rest it upon Man's shoulder, and again they walked together in the cool morning.

* * *

"I wish I could come with you."

Aragorn sighed, but didn't interrupt his packing as a silent voice broke the silence. "I know, but you need time to rest," he finally stated.

A soft whisper of silk indicated that Legolas moved, and soon the Prince appeared to Aragorn's line of sight. "I know, and I am not here to beg you to take me with you. I merely stated that…"

Aragorn halted the other with a raised hand. "We both know your yearning to return to your people. But I assure you that I will make sure that your people will know you are well. Though it is much possible that they already know: news travel fast between Elves."

Legolas nodded absently, his eyes not meeting those of the Man. Finally, with a ragged sigh, Legolas closed his eyes, turning towards a door of the balcony. "Much sorrow has befallen to you, and yet you wasted your time with me and my people." As Aragorn took a step forward to argue, Legolas turned around, indicating the Man to stay quiet. "I thank you for everything you have done. And Éomer." The blue eyes turned distant. "I hope all went well with him."

"I do not doubt that a moment," Aragorn stated softly, stepping to the Prince, his hands resting upon the archer's shoulders. "And do not thank me: I did all I could, yet not enough. I am merely trying to repay the deeds I owe you."

Legolas looked up to the Man, smile curving his lips. "And of what deeds you owe me, I wonder, my good Ranger?"

Aragorn didn't answer, nor did it matter. Turning back to the bed, Aragorn swiftly finished his packing, then turned around to look at Legolas again. "Well, it is time. Hopefully my journey back home will not bring more unwanted surprises." Smiling, the pair exited the room, walking through the hallways to the courtyard.

"About time. We already thought that you wouldn't be leaving at all," a cleat voice rang out, and Aragorn grinned at Elrohir.

"I considered that. But then I remembered that staying here would force me to endure you and your twin longer, and that gave me new speed in packing."

There was a muffled laugh from Asthaldo who was standing beside Elrohir, and Elladan glared at Aragorn playfully. "We shall remember that…" the elder twin stated quietly.

Glorfindel shook his head, amused, and led Roheryn to Aragorn, handing the reins to the Man. "Safe journey," the Elf said, and Aragorn nodded, clasping hands with him. Glorfindel stepped back, glancing at Legolas who stood silently beside him. "He will be well," the Noldo whispered to the Sinda. Legolas only nodded, his eyes never leaving Aragorn.

Celeborn also appeared, stroking Roheryn's neck. "May your way prove swift and safe, King of Gondor," he finally said, letting Aragorn mount. With a serial of other farewells, Aragorn guided Roheryn to the place where Faramir was already waiting with the rest of the Gondorians.

"Fare well, Estel. Hopefully the next time we meet, it will be on a better conditions," Elladan finally said, standing beside Roheryn.

"Aye, this kind of evil events cannot do good for your old heart," Elrohir continued, earning a sharp elbow from his brother.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at Elladan, and then glanced at the younger twin. "Try to behave yourselves. After all you are in great company," he said, glancing at the Three Cousins standing near them. "And after all, it was _me_ who brought them here in the first place," he finally whispered, making both of the half-elves scowl.

The Cousins laughed, raising their hands to their hearts as a sign of a salute and honouring. Returning the gesture, Aragorn spurred Roheryn forward, hearing his men following him. "Time to go home," Faramir said by his side, and Aragorn thought the same – even if a little more grimly. Turning to look back at the walls of Rivendell, he saw some of the Elves still standing on the courtyard, looking after them, Legolas among them. _Until we meet again, my friend, be well_, Aragorn thought, and turned his head back to the direction of Gondor.

**

* * *

**

The night had fallen upon the valley of Rivendell. Only a few softly twinkling lights broke the darkness, shining warmly from the forest-hidden buildings. Legolas remembered the days when those lights had been numerous, and happy voices and laugher were filling the halls of the Last Homely House, but that was no more. Elrond and most of his people had departed over the Sea, only few of them lingered behind, waiting for their own calling to awake. _Like me_, Legolas thought. _But my yearning has already awoken, so what am I waiting for?_ But he knew the answer too well to voice it. He had too much here to live for. It wasn't yet his time. But now that Gimli was gone, his reasons were growing short. _But there is still Aragorn. In any case, I would have waited until the end of his days before sailing over myself._ These thoughts sent a wave of sadness through him, and the Sinda Prince decided that he would not think this matter again. He didn't need to remind himself of his companions' mortality.

Unconsciously, Legolas fingered the jewel around his neck. The hours he had spent alone in his room after Aragorn had returned Gimli's gift to him had passed in little thought. His sadness was too great to be forgotten, and it would take a long time to heal the wounds he had gained from this adventure. A dark voice on the back of his mind laughed at this, telling him that he would never recover. The loss of his friend's life would haunt him forever – Gimli had died defending him, and for his eternal shame, Legolas had done nothing to aid Gimli when he needed help. Sighing, Legolas gazed at the trees before him, seeking consolation. He knew that blaming himself of the Dwarf's death helped him no further, but at the moment, he had no other to blame. In the due of time, he would avenge his friend's death, but for now, he had to wait and heal.

A slight change in the whisper of the trees alarmed Legolas that something was amiss. Redirecting his attention, he focused upon the forest around him. Nothing unusual could be heard, but Legolas was growing even more aware of the fact that something or someone was approaching. Taking a slow step forward, Legolas closed his eyes, reaching out with his _fëa_, trying to identify the intruder. A swift rush of cold ran across his back, as if cold fingers touching his skin, making him shudder.

On the edge of the forest a shape moved, unnoticed by the Elf, moving silently closer. Black cloak hid the creature's form perfectly, making it melt to the shadows of the night. With a silent swiftness, the approaching form jumped over the low railing of the balcony, head turning towards the Elf who currently had his back turned towards it.

Legolas frowned, trying to focus even more. The presence of whatever approaching kept playing on the edge of his awareness, and every time he was near to catch it, it leaped aside, leaving a trail of darkness behind it. _Or is it just the coldness in me? Celeborn said that my wounds will take time to heal, but he could have warned me that they would be affecting to my senses as well…_ As much as he hated to admit it, Legolas knew that the evil that had bored itself to him through Balrog's weapon still affected him, as much as he tried to fight it. And he was already beginning to hate his current state of weakness. Taking a deep breath, Legolas reached out again, too stubborn to give up. And then he felt it, closer than before. Too close.

Before Legolas was able to move, he felt a touch upon his shoulder. Attempting to spin around with the unnatural speed of Elves, Legolas twisted away. But whatever creature had approached him was faster. A firm grip around Legolas neck stopped any movement the Elf might had in mind. Legolas felt the darkness of another's presence, a feeling somehow familiar to him but he did not stop to wonder this. He was just about to move again when a soft touch of lips against the side of his neck made him froze.

"Please, my Prince, I think we have played enough," a low, raspy voice came from behind Legolas, ending up in a chuckle. "My forgiveness for startling you," the other continued, releasing his gradually loosening hold around the Elf's neck.

"There is no need for forgiveness of such deeds that should have not happened," Legolas said somewhat bitterly, turning around as he was released. "Thaíly, where on Arda have you been?"

The creature that was no more a Man than an Elf smiled in the shadows of his hood, his dark eyes watching the Prince closely. "My business is my own."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head. "You still do not trust," he said remorsefully.

"It is not a matter of trust, young Prince, but merely that that you do not _need_ to know of my comings and goings as long as they have nothing to do with your affairs." Another dark glance was directed at Legolas. "Yet I begin to regret that I was away from the woods for this long: seemingly all of your own people weren't able to save you from harm." Legolas took a deep breath, earning a dark laugh from Thaíly. "Shannai _sent_ me." The dark voice indicated perfectly that the Elf's request had had no affect on him. "He asked me to look after you. Seems like he was smart enough to see that you need some real protecting."

"Ah, and as usual – and well it goes for your own benefits – you come when no more protection is needed," Legolas shot out, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Thaíly merely glanced at the Prince before him, seemingly amused by this. "I should have known that creeping upon you was a bad idea. But I couldn't resist. And it seems that you are not so well as you pretend to be: if you couldn't feel and identify my presence, I would say you should go to bed and stay there until you _are_ able."

Legolas was about to argue, but then thought otherwise, knowing it would be pointless. Any insult he would come up with would be only poor humour to Thaíly. Instead, he changed the topic, turning away from the other to stare at the direction of east. "What news from home?"

Thaíly stepped beside Legolas, his eyes never leaving the Prince. "Your father returned soon after the battle ended. As you know, many of your people have headed for Havens. The others had been gathered together in the Woodland Realm. As far as I know, there is not much left of your home."

"What of Éomer?" Legolas said, trying to hide the sadness he felt arising inside of him when the destruction of his home was mentioned.

"Thranduil told him to go back home," the half-vampire stated flatly.

"What?" Legolas exclaimed, turning to face the other, shock upon his face.

"Well, not in so many words, and not himself," Thaíly said as if to himself. "He sent others to meet the King of Horsemen, and ordered them to send him away."

"You could speak a little more respectfully of the King of Mark," Legolas hissed.

Thaíly gave him a strange look. "I have respect for few, as you know, and how I speak of those that do not hold it is entirely my own business."

"As usual…" Legolas muttered. "But it would do good to you to remember that Éomer happens to be my friend. I wish you could honour that."

To Legolas' surprise, Thaíly bowed slightly. "Your wish has a great value for me. I shall heed your words."

Legolas nodded, not entirely convinced. "What of the enemy?" he finally asked.

"Vanished. A wondrous act from such a great number of Orcs, but they did it. And as for the Balrog… no sign." It seemed to the other man that Legolas was very happy of the latter, though a shadow of worry passed over his face. One didn't hide an ancient monster and an army of raging Orcs and Goblins easily.

"Surely you know something of the enemy's movements," Legolas pressed.

Thaíly smiled darkly, cocking his head slightly. "Darkness of Moria holds many secrets. And in the deep caverns many of the enemy now hides. Waiting for what, I do not dare to guess. As for the rest of the army, they moved south, some north."

Legolas gave the other a smile of his own. He had known that Thaíly knew more than he had told: after all, Thaíly's knowledge of the enemies' movements never failed to surprise Legolas. As for _how_ Thaíly knew what he knew, the Prince didn't wish to know. It seemed better that he was at least partially ignorant. "So, what next?" he whispered, partly to himself.

"I though you would tell me," came a rough answer, making Legolas glance at his companion. Thaíly's dark gaze was serious, free of mockery. "I know you cannot leave Rivendell for a while, but I assume you have things for me to run for you."

"When you put it like that…" Legolas said cautiously. "I would wish you to go back to east and make out all you can of the movements of the enemy." The Prince was quiet for a while, his gaze turning more south. "There is shadow rising from Mordor. I felt it when I left Ithilien, but now I understand it more perfectly. It was not only a shadow of my own mind."

"Dol Guldur is dark again. It seems that the enemy has fondness of its old dwelling places – whatever this new darkness is," Thaíly agreed.

Legolas turned to face the other, nodding. "Keep haste. I wish to have news as quickly as possible. Speed is our best ally."

Thaíly, smiling at this, bowed slightly. Then he took a step forward, taking Legolas' hands into his own and rising both in turn to his mouth, he kissed the wrists just below the arteries, where a strong beat of Elven heart could be easily felt. This was a show of respect from Thaíly, a sign that marked Legolas' blood sacred to him – a simple gesture of loyalty – as had been the kiss to Legolas' neck earlier.

Without further words, Thaíly retreated, quickly disappearing to the dark forest. Legolas' eyes followed him as he stood alone again, and a slow smile curved his lips. _I didn't even say 'good luck' to him. Maybe I am slowly beginning to understand him. After all these years we have known each other, that would be most suitable. He can take care of himself, and his knowledge of the enemy will help him to deliver me any information I wish to have. Though at times I wonder why I trust him. He had no reason at all to trust me, nor serve me._ Frowning, Legolas shook his head. This was a fact he had struggled with over hundreds of years: he had no clear memory as to _why_ Thaíly was shoving respect and servitude to him. Legolas knew, deep inside, that there was a reason, but as usual, he couldn't bring himself to remember it. With a sigh, Legolas threw a one more glance at the forest, and then entered his rooms. Maybe sleep would bring him answers, though he doubted it.

**

* * *

**

Thaíly crossed the silent forest like a ghost, no sound marking his passing, no sign appearing at his wake. Grim smile passed over his face as he though his previous meeting with Legolas. Even if he never would say it aloud, he had been relieved that Legolas had been alive and well. As for why he thought so, no other knew. Partly, he didn't know himself. And it seemed clear to him that Legolas himself was puzzled by their rather odd relationship.

Thaíly arrived to the small clearing where he had left the horses, his thought running through things he would need to do before heading after the enemies. When realising that the horses weren't alone, Thaíly came to a jerky stop. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the Elf next to Arod, his smooth hands stroking he horse's long nose.

Thaíly sniffed the air, his upper lip rising up to reveal the sharp eye-teeth. "Rafél," he nearly hissed, not even trying to hide his annoyance.

"About time for you to appear," the Elven warrior stated, letting go of Arod and circling around the horse so he could face Thaíly. "I would have expected some kind of more polite welcome from you, Blood-sucker," Rafél continued, his brown eyes locking with Thaíly's.

Thaíly snorted, his tongue darting across the edge of his teeth. "To be honest, I am quite disappointed with you, Rafél. You let me down," the low voice said menacingly as Thaíly slowly moved to the side, all the while keeping his eyes locked with the guardian. His movement brought him slowly closer to another, but Rafél held his ground, his gaze never leaving the other's. "You were supposed to watch over Legolas, but what did you do when an attack came?" Thaíly spat out with disgust. "You left him on his own. Of such a crime, I should rip your heart out of your chest, still beating." It seemed to Rafél that Thaíly clearly enjoyed the idea.

"It is easy for you to judge my actions," Rafél said far to calmly, making Thaíly stop his slow approach. "But where were you? Surely you were aware of this kind of a massive attack taking place. Or have you lost your skill to read the enemy's movements?"

"It is not the point of this discussion," Thaíly said, smiling darkly. "You failed your Prince. And moreover, you violated our contract of protecting the youth."

Rafél actually laughed at this, taking a step forward. "When you decide to tell that to Legolas, let me know: I surely wish to witness his reaction to it."

Thaíly stopped, sniffing the air yet again. Then he cocked his head to the side, smiling. "His opinion has no affect to mine. But if he wishes to keep you, fine. Just make sure such failures won't take place again. At the moment, I have other tasks to fulfil. I won't be able to be in two places at once."

Rafél raised an eyebrow, folding his hands over his chest. "He sent you out to scout? That is interesting."

"Maybe you should speak with your protege. He is well aware of the situation revolving around him, and his mind has begun to work as it should be. He will be a fine leader when needed," Thaíly said more to himself that to the other while he approached Morisûl and mounted. "Take care, for if you fail this time, I will make sure that your death will be one to be remembered far into future," Thaíly stated, his eyes full of promise as he turned to look at Rafél. Then he rode away, heading towards north with a speed that few could have maintained in the darkness of the night.

Arod neighed, pushing his muzzle against Rafél's back, as if asking the Elf was he alright. Rafél soothed the animal absently, still staring after Thaíly. He didn't doubt a moment that the half-vampire would keep his promise. After all, Thaíly had wished to kill him for years, or so it seemed for those who had seen them together. Around Legolas, they kept civil manners, but most likely Legolas was aware of the tension between them.

As for why Thaíly hated Rafél so bitterly, the guardian didn't know. Clearly Thaíly thought he would be more capable in protecting Legolas, but most likely there was something more behind it. Legolas had said to his guardian once that Thaíly was testing him: to see if Rafél was worthy of his respect. That was possibly very near the truth. Or then as far as any of his other guesses.

Snorting, Rafél took a soft hold of Arod's mane and started to lead the horse towards the stables. He would have to talk with Legolas later. He didn't like the idea that his Prince was already sending scouts forward for information – this soon after his own recovering. Keeping one's thoughts turned into dark things easily gave one's inner darkness an easier way to take control.

_to be continued…_


	18. Chapter 16:Searching Enemies

** Chapter 16: Searching Enemies**

* * *

** A month later, **  
** Gondor**

Faramir walked along a corridor, his steps hurried and tense. His face mimicked his movements, and the few servants that met him on his path pulled aside immediately: none had any desire to confront their Lord like this. When the Steward of Gondor reached his King's study, he halted, drawing a long, calming breath. The news he had heard from Irolas and was now bringing to his King were not pleasant: far from it. Faramir rather did not think how his Lord would react, though he had played several painful variations in his head since leaving Irolas on the courtyard.

With a slightly shaking hand Faramir knocked at the door, and as soon as a silent voice bid him welcome, he entered, closing the door swiftly behind him. Taking a last, lingering look at the door, Faramir turned to face King Elessar.

Aragorn straightened in his chair when Faramir entered, trying to flex his sore back. The other man's nervousness hit him like a damp wall of mist, and he raised an eyebrow at Faramir, motioning him to sit down on the opposite side of the table. "You look worried. Has something happened?" Aragorn asked carefully, trying to calm the man sitting nervously before him. Faramir was a Man with a calm mind and he was not easily shaken, but today it seemed that something had upset the man.

"I have rather… unpleasant tidings from southern parts of Gondor, my Lord," Faramir began, meeting Aragorn's eyes only momentarily.

"Yes?" Aragorn pressed, leaning forward. There had been a lot of trouble since he had returned from Rivendell. Someone had spread out news that Elves were somehow involved into the Queen's death, and this has awoken a myriad of new gossips. Aragorn had done his best to calm his people, but by far, he hadn't been successful. The situation was sensitive in many ways, and some of the Men said that their King didn't dare to go against the Elves in the fear of their anger and retribution.

"There has been an accident in southern Ithilien," Faramir swallowed, and Aragorn noted that the Steward was far too pale when compared to his usual complexion.

"Pray tell me the news, Faramir, and be done with it," Aragorn stated, dread rising inside of him.

Faramir nodded, daring even to look at Aragorn's eyes before continuing. "Two days ago some of the villagers near Southern Ithilien's Elven colony attacked an Elven family near Anduin. Two adults and one child died. A family that was on their way back to the colony after visiting a farther Elven settlement..." Faramir stopped his hasty account, facing Aragorn to see his reaction. He didn't stay disappointed.

Aragorn's face was drained of blood long before Faramir was finished. His fists were clutched tight, knuckles turning white. "Dead," he gasped, his eyes moving from Faramir to his fists. His thoughts ran wild, rage building inside of him. _Two adults and one child. By the Valar, has this world gone mad?_ But he knew the answer. He should have seen this coming. But instead of taking direct actions to make his people believed that the Elves had nothing to do with Arwen's death – a fact he couldn't be himself certain about, but what he didn't believe for a moment. He had waited for the situation to calm down, and now innocent blood had been shed. Above all else, one of those rare and precious Elflings was dead.

Shifting nervously, Faramir partly expected his King to raise his sword and drive it to the nearest object at hand, but to his relief, Aragorn sat quietly on his place. After a moment of tense silence, Aragorn bowed his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat, his hands fisting into his hair as a display of frustration.

"My Lord, what do you command?" Faramir asked finally, trusting that Aragorn had mastered his emotions by then.

Aragorn raised his head, his eyes meeting Faramir's. "We must send a word to Elves, to make sure they understand this is a mere… misunderstanding," Aragorn spat out, disgust in his voice. "I will ride to south myself."

Faramir nodded, not sure if this was a best possible plan, but at the moment he was ready to listen his Lord's advice. Aragorn had been raised by the Elves, and he probably knew how to negotiate with them, even in a situation like this.

Faramir rose to his feet, bowing to his Lord and exiting the room. He would make the preparations ready for Aragorn, leaving to his King the task to find the proper words for both to his own people and to the Firstborns.

In his room, Aragorn leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. "I believe that this shall not be the last time I wish you would have come back with me, Legolas. May your people hold the same wisdom and knowledge of Men as you do, or we shall all be doomed."

* * *

Imrahil stood on the courtyard of Minas Tirith, watching as one of his messengers prepared for the journey back to Dol Amroth. He himself would linger in Minas Tirith for a little longer, and with the messenger would go the orders to his own regents, as well as other messages he needed to deliver. "May your way be an easy one," he finally said, shaking the soldier's shoulder.

"Thank you, my Lord," the soldier answered, mounting his horse and turning it to the direction of the gate. At that moment another messenger galloped to the courtyard, his horse frothing and snorting as it came to a sudden halt. Both the rider and the horse seemed to be on a verge of collapse, and Imrahil ran to them, helping the worn man to dismount. Giving nod to his own messenger, Imrahil turned back to the man beside him.

"I have hasty news to the King and the Steward," the man panted, fumbling for his tunic to find the message. One of the stablemen ran to the courtyard, calming the sweating horse tenderly, walking the horse away to cool it down. The messenger finally found his bearings, handing a crumbled message to Imrahil. "Please deliver this at once, my Lord. It holds great importance."

Imrahil nodded, beckoning for one of the guards to take care of the worn man, then hurrying to the palace himself. He nearly collided with Faramir who was hurrying towards the doors, and they changed a quick, apologising look. "This message just came to you and to the King, my Lord," Imrahil said, giving the paper to the Steward who looked at him, confused.

Quickly breaking the makeshift seal, Faramir read through the first few lines, gasped, and nearly collapsed to the floor, dropping the message from his hands. Imrahil hurried to catch the other man, pressing him against the marble wall while he picked up the message, reading through it quickly. His eyes widened in shock, and he raised his eyes to meet Faramir's nearly panicked gaze. "We had better to find King Elessar at once," Imrahil murmured between gritted teeth, and after he received a shaky nod from Faramir, they both headed back to find the King of Gondor.

**

* * *

**

"They what!" Aragorn shouted, making all the people in the Hall of Kings jump back in fright. The fury and rage in his voice was nothing compared to the fire in his eyes as he read again through the lines of the message. "What madness had befallen upon my people? What curse…" he halted, beginning to pace back and forth, changing his cursing into another language.

Dwarvish, if anyone asked Faramir. Of course he couldn't be sure, but by the harshness of the pronunciation it was either Dwarvish or Black speech, and he greatly doubted the latter. Though at this occasion, using Orcish curses might have been most appropriate.

"This all is growing to be more than a simple misunderstanding," Imrahil mumbled.

"Indeed," Aragorn hissed, making one of his aides cower back. "Whoever is responsible of this will pay."

"Maybe there is an outer exciter in this," Faramir suggested carefully. "Someone who is working against you, my Lord."

Aragorn nodded wearily, halting his steps and letting the message fall to the table at his side. He wished to do nothing else but draw Anduríl from its scabbard and smash the table into pieces, the cursed message with it. "I think it will do little good at this point if I shall ride south or not," he muttered darkly, caressing the scabbard of his blade. "Whatever I say does not hold a single effect to my own kinsmen."

The death of one Elven family has been a catastrophe. He had no name for a complete destruction of smaller Elven settlements and attacks towards their main colony. Once again, the King of Gondor wished to be somewhere else, and someone else. He could have never guessed that any of his people would get such an absurd idea as to _attack_ the Elves, even if they were thought responsible of the Queen's death. Seemingly, he had underestimated the loyalty of the Men of Gondor.

"My Lord…" Faramir began, but one dark look from Aragorn halted him.

"No other word. Here, we speak of fair deeds and sit sheltered in our towers when on the outside all the deeds are done," the King muttered, leaning over the table, his entire body shaking with anger. "I will ride south, and this madness will come to an end," he vowed, and then strode off of the room, leaving his Men look after him both in terror and awe.

**

* * *

**

Aragorn sat upon Roheryn, calming the nervous horse with a low voice and long strokes along his neck. The people milling around him and the King's escort created a loud cacophony of voices, and even more folk was rushing to the clearing in the centre of a small town in southern Gondor near the woods of Ithilien. From where he sat upon his horse Aragorn was able to see the green forest spread out at his left.

"I see many old warriors here," Faramir said beside Aragorn, leaning near so the older man could hear him. "It is no wonder that tension and mistrust have created violent result here: these men hold great love and respect for you, my Lord, and surely if they feel someone is threatening you…"

Aragorn nodded grimly, not greatly comforted by this fact. He still feared the coming speech he was going to give to his kinsmen – or rather the ending of it. His rage was still burning bright, and even if two days had passed since he had been informed of the attacks against the Elves, he still felt a bitter anger knock on the edges of his consciousness.

Finally Faramir raised his hand, silencing the large group in a matter of moments. The men around them tried to push nearer, eager faces directed to their King.

"Men of Gondor," Aragorn began, his voice as calm as he could put it. "During the past few days I have heard of terrible deeds that have been done at this area. Attacks against Elven settlements –"

The crowd roared, arms raising to the air. Weapons were swung on the edge of the group, and Roheryn danced to the side, his ears flattened against his head. The horse felt his rider's anger even if the men around them didn't.

"Enough!" Aragorn shouted, earning a moment of silence. "Those of you who have thought that you may take the law into your own hands –"

"Death to the murderers!" came a shout from the crowd, echoed by many similar yells.

Aragorn gritted his teeth together, trying to remember that this bitter hate among his men was probably caused by some enemy force. Even if he tried to remember that, he felt his self-control slipping. "Since the beginning of this ordeal I have said no word against the Elves, and none shall I say now! You have attacked their homes and people needlessly, and against your King's favour!"

"Cowardly assassins! They killed our Queen and now tell lies to our King so he would leave them alone!" one of the men shouted, others soon joining into him.

Faramir saw easily that Aragorn's patience had come to an end. Before his Lord was able to do anything irrevocable, he guided his horse forward, raising his voice. "Those who from now on take any actions against the Elves are violating the peace of Gondor and shall be punished for their actions!" he shouted over the noise.

Behind the King and the Steward of Gondor, Imrahil shook his head, his eyes filled with dread and sorrow. Things weren't going well at all.

**

* * *

**

The trees were silent, the entire forest unmoving like some huge, dead thing. Aragorn was able to tell it as soon as he entered the forest of Ithilien. _This near an Elven colony the trees should be singing with joy and happiness. But even I can tell that today everything is silent. And I do not wonder that a moment. After all that has happened, I wouldn't be surprised if even the last of the Elves would sail over to the Blessed Lands._

Roheryn snorted, clearly sensing the uneasiness of the nature around them. The men were quiet as they rode on, and for a moment Aragorn regretted that he had taken his escort with him to meet the Elves. But Faramir had insisted this, and for once, Aragorn had yielded without too great of a fight. There was no way of telling how the Elves would react even if he went alone among them.

"We are near," Aragorn murmured, patting Roheryn's neck gently. Roheryn snorted in return, his eyes moving from side to another.

Any words Aragorn may have prepared were thrown to the wind when the company reached a great clearing in the middle of the forest. In the trees around them they could see Elves' homes and other buildings. But to all of them one thing was clear as soon as they reached the colony: it was deserted.

_to be continued…_


	19. Chapter 17: Sadness of a Dwarf

**Chapter 17: Sadness of a Dwarf**

* * *

** A week later, **  
** Minas Tirith**

A company of four creatures arrived to the gates of Minas Tirith, drawing many curious glances at their directions. Not caring about the stares of the Men milling around them, the four arrivals came to the gate of the White City, only to find themselves stopped by a group of guards.

"Lower your hoods, and tell your business," one of the guards said none too courteously, fingering his weapon with distrust.

The four creatures looked at each other, then at the guards, and then the foremost of them lowered the hood of his cloak to his neck, staring up to the guards from under heavy eyebrows. "The hospitality of Gondor has seemingly lessened since I visited here for the last time," a low voice stated calmly. "But if you may, I and my companions would wish to be on our way: we are in haste and on an important mission." As this didn't make the guards convinced, the short creature took a step forward. "We are on a business of a King," the low voice said ominously.

One of the guards swallowed, glancing at his companions. "And what may that business be, master Dwarf?"

The Dwarf snorted disapprovingly. "Do you always question your King's allies like this?"

"Of course not, master Dwarf. Please, you may enter," said one of the other guards, stepping aside. His comrades also noticed that the Dwarves seemed to be on a grim mood, and as far as their knowledge reached, it is not a wise thing to challenge a Dwarf. And the guards on the last gates would make sure that no irrelevant visitors were allowed in to meet the King.

"Thank you," said the Dwarf who had been speaking, placing the hood back to his head and then he marched through the gates with his companions.

"Are we indeed on a business of the King?" said a smallest of the group, his voice far more higher than the other's.

"Hush, young one," said another one, placing a steady hand upon the smallest's shoulder. It did not do any good to them to draw more unwanted attention.

* * *

"My Lord?" came a hesitant voice from the door of the King's study, and Aragorn beckoned for the servant to continue, his eyes still glued on a paper before him. "There is a small company of Dwarves waiting for you in a Hall, my liege," the servant continued. "They insisted to meet you."

Finally Aragorn looked up from his work, shock upon his face. "Dwarves?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes, my Lord."

Putting aside the papers, Aragorn slowly raised from his chair. As to why a company of Dwarves would be in Minas Tirith, he did not know. _But I will find out soon_, he thought. Not waiting for the servant to follow him, Aragorn strode to the Hall of Kings.

When he reached the great room, he halted, throwing a critical eye over the company which waited him. All four of the Dwarves were hooded – there was no mistake of their race, at least for Aragorn – and one was slightly smaller than the others. All wore worn travel cloaks that hid their features, and it seemed that they still wore their weapons as well.

Aragorn stepped forward, slowly walking to meet the Dwarves. The silent discussion between the four ended immediately, and one of them took a step forward. "About time for you to show up, lad. And what has become to your people? They barely let us in of the gate, without speaking of the trouble we went through before allowed into the citadel."

Aragorn nearly jumped out of his skin, stopping dead on his tracks. He stared at the Dwarf in front of him, absurd ideas running through his head.

"Oh don't just stare there. Have you completely forgotten your manners, Aragorn?" the same gruff voice continued, and finally the Dwarf threw the hood down around his neck, revealing a familiar face.

"Gimli son of Glóin! Long have you indeed waited to appear back to the world of living!" Aragorn exclaimed in astonishment.

"Back? I never left, old friend," Gimli said a little more soberly, bowing at Aragorn. "I believe we have a lot to talk about."

"Indeed, we have," Aragorn said, folding his hands across his chest.

**

* * *

**

After Gimli's four companions had retired to their rooms, Gimli sat down with Aragorn to speak. They enjoyed a cup of wine in Aragorn's study, staring at the fire burning in the heart.

"I heard of Arwen. How did such an evil thing happen?" Gimli mused aloud. "You have my deepest sympathy."

"Thank you, my friend. And as for how it happened, nor why, we haven't yet found the answer," Aragorn stated, taking a long drink from his goblet. "But tell me now, how did you survive? We all thought that you died in the battle of Woodland Realm."

Gimli gave the man a questioning look but knew he wouldn't get any answers from the man before he had given him some first. "As far as I can remember, the Orcs overcame me, and in the end, they probably tossed me into a river," the Dwarf began, sorrow in his eyes, and his hand moved to the necklace around his neck. Aragorn saw this but waited, wishing the other first to tell his story. "I was saved by my own people – those who now accompany me. They took me to Erebor, and I was healed there. Against the advises of my father I came here when I felt strong enough, wishing to find out what happened in the world after… The three others of my kin are going to Aglarond, and they refused to try to speak to the Elves of Eryn Lasgalen. I was willing to go alone, but…"

"You came here, of which I am glad," Aragorn said quietly, leaning forward. "As for the battle…"

"I lost Legolas," the Dwarf breathed out. "I tried to fight the enemy, but they reached him –"

"Legolas lives, Gimli," Aragorn stated softly, laying one hand upon Gimli's shoulder. "He was taken by the Orcs, but he escaped. I was among the group of Men who finally found him – united by Elves from East Lórien. We took Legolas to Rivendell, for his wounds were too bad for me to take care of. Éomer went to help the Elves to the north, but as far as I have heard, his trip wasn't a complete success."

"Legolas lives?" Gimli asked, his eyes shining with an inner light for the first time since he was rescued from the river.

"Yes, and he is quite well. I left him to Rivendell to recover, but he will be fine enough to return soon…" Aragorn went silent, his eyes glancing at the window on the other side of the room. "The Elves are gone. Ithilien is deserted. My people drove them away in false belief that they were involved in Arwen's death."

Gimli didn't say anything for a long while, his brows drawn together. Then he sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Then there is not many reasons for our Elf to stay on these shores, if all his people are leaving."

Mutely, Aragorn nodded. The Sea's calling had already awoken in Legolas, and if his people now took the journey over, it was unlikely what the Prince would resist. Again, he wished he had taken Legolas with him when he departed from Rivendell. But if Legolas truly decided to leave, it was his decision, and they all should honour it.

Again, they sat in silence, both in their own, gloomy thoughts.

_to be continued…_


	20. Chapter 18: Journey to Ithilien

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 18: Journey to Ithilien**

* * *

**Rivendell**

When Legolas arrived at the Hall of Fire it was crowded with people. He had been sitting in the gardens when one of the Elves running past him had informed him that a large group of Elves had just arrived. Now that he saw them himself, his heart caught into his throat. All of the Elves that had arrived were familiar to him. But of all places upon Arda, they were not supposed to be here.

Seeing a young Elf on the edge of the crowd, Legolas walked to him, approaching the other with a swiftness that made the young Elf startle. "My apologies, Brilving. I didn't mean to scare you," Legolas apologised.

"My Prince Legolas, I am glad to see you are well," the younger Elf smiled, bowing slightly. "We had a word that you were saved and brought here." No words were spoken of the battle in the north, for all Elves in Middle-earth knew about their kinsmen's fate.

"What brings you all here?" Legolas asked finally, his blue eyes running from Elf to another.

"They have left Ithilien. Most of them are planning to go on with their cousins from Woodland Realm and go to the Havens," came another voice and Legolas turned around, meeting Glorfindel's sorrowful gaze. "The Men have become hostile in Gondor. It seems as if the Elves are made guilty about the Queen's death."

"But how could have that happened?" Legolas said, shocked. "And surely Aragorn would have done something to prevent the hostilities –"

"They attacked us, my Prince," Brilving said quietly. Legolas head whipped around, disbelief upon his face. "They attacked the settlements first, after they had killed one family a day before. And finally they tried to reach the colony. We were afraid to fight back," the youth continued, seeing Legolas' face grow more horrified after each word. "We didn't wish to fight because we knew it was merely a misunderstanding, and you wouldn't have allowed us to fight the Men…"

Legolas was just about to open his mouth when a strong hand closed around his arm, yanking him out of the room. "Watch your words, for we are at weak ice here, Legolas," a voice hissed into his ear, and Legolas turned around, meeting Rafél face to face. The young Prince was about to say some selected words to his guardian, but then mastered himself, noticing how close he was to loosing his temper. "All those who are not here are dead," Rafél continued, eyeing the group of Elves that was now joined by the runaways of Woodland Realm.

"Is it really necessary to remind me of that fact?" Legolas said, his voice breaking. Rafél looked down at the younger Elf, alarmed. Legolas' face was pale and he was trembling, his eyes somewhat unfocused. Rafél drew Legolas quickly into his arms, and the Prince came willingly, clutching into Rafél like he would have been the anchor to the life itself. "What have I ever done? What has my kin done to deserve this kind of ending?" Legolas veiled, his voice muffled by Rafél's tunic.

"We have done nothing. It is the will of the world," Rafél soothed, drawing them to the side of the corridor, out of immediate sight. He had no real desire to be caught like this, and he knew Legolas would feel even more so. Holding the trembling Elf in his arms, Rafél hummed soft words, trying to soothe his protege.

Legolas had improved in health greatly inside the last few weeks, and Celeborn had returned to East Loríen a week ago. Rafél hadn't yet spoken with Legolas about the matter of Thaíly's visit, and it seemed that he would be forced to wait a little longer. This day had yet again proven that Legolas was still suffering from the injuries of the battle. His reactions were unexpectedly strong and hard to control or expect by others, and it seemed that Legolas didn't fare any better with himself.

Finally Legolas calmed down, but he stood silent in Rafél's embrace for a long time after it, drawing strength from the older Elf. He felt so tired, his entire world falling to pieces before his very eyes. His people were now fleeing from these shores, and for once, he didn't have the strength or the heart to stop them. This time he truly understood what his people were running away from. Pain and death weren't the fates planned to Elves. There was no excuse as to why they should face such an end.

* * *

_I asked them to stay and wait over this storm, and that is all I can do. The rest is up to them. But as for myself, it seems as if the longing has died. At least one good thing came of the facing a Balrog: I am no longer driven mad by the song of the Sea. Or maybe it takes more time to hear it, like it took several days to hear the song of the trees again._ Legolas shook his head, not wishing to think of it. The yearning awaken by the gulls was something he didn't wish to bear.

Pushing the last clothes to his pack, Legolas reached for the packages of food, stuffing them to the company of the rest of his equipment. He would travel swift and lightly, for as an Elf, he was able to take long journeys with little food and rest, and most of the things to ensure survival he would find from the nature.

Feeling ready, Legolas swiftly put on his cloak and rest of his weapons, shouldering his pack and heading for the balcony. He stood there for a long moment, listening intently. The twins and the three Cousins had been hunting Orcs on the slopes of the Misty Mountains for some days already, so he didn't have to fear for them to catch him while leaving. Rafél, on the other hand… Legolas wished that he could have asked his bodyguard to come with him, but he knew Rafél would merely march him back to his room, telling him yet again that he was still recovering.

_But I must go to Gondor. It seems that Aragorn needs my help, more seriously than ever. I have failed him times enough during these last few months, and now it is time to pay back to him._

His decision made, Legolas slowly crossed the forest between his rooms and the stables, arriving to the silent area where the horses were kept. Silently as a shadow he entered the shelter, making his way to Arod's side. The horse pushed his head against Legolas' chest, clearly happy to see Legolas again. They had had only few chances to ride together, and the young steed was bursting with energy. Soothing his eager companion, Legolas let Arod out from his box, leading him to the door.

A shadow shifted in one corner of the stable, making Legolas turn, his hand moving to the long knife upon his hip before he realised who was with him. With a sigh both relieved and disappointed, Legolas dropped his hand.

"Couldn't let you go alone," came a low voice and Rafél appeared, Lumén walking behind him obediently. Arod neighed happily, his ears flicking.

Legolas smiled, guiding Arod out of the stables, Rafél following after him. "You are not going to force me to stay?" Legolas asked as he mounted.

"Just so I could suffer another poor escape-attempt?" Rafél said, amused.

"I have escaped from you before," Legolas reminded gently, and Rafél frowned, not wishing to remember any of those times. But he had learned to know Legolas' mind since then, and it had been rather easy to know what Legolas had been planning to do tonight.

"Shall we?" Rafél asked, and together they trotted out to the dark forest, not once turning to look back at Imladris.

* * *

** A day later, **  
** Misty Mountains near Rivendell**

Elladan crawled forward, nearly lying on his stomach on the dusty ground. He had a knife in his hand, ready to be embedded to the first enemy he would encounter. Elrohir was near on his right, he knew. He didn't need to look, nor did he hear him, but he knew. After all, they were twins. People usually took this as an explanation to their unusually strong connection.

But Elladan had seen such things elsewhere. Between the Three Cousins of Hithsîr, there was a connection unheard of. There was also some kind of strange bond between Legolas and Gimli, when you knew what to look for. And between Legolas and his bodyguard, Rafél, the connection was unquestionable. Thalión had once said that there were strong bonds between all the Princes of Woodland Realm and their guardians. Elladan didn't doubt that a moment.

And at moments like this, such connections came handy.

The Cousins were not far, even if Elladan had at times difficulties to sense their presence, especially out in the wild. It seemed that Thalión was able to loose himself into the forest so completely that is would have been folly to even search for him, and it seemed that Thalión's skill also hid his cousins when they hunted together. _Not that Orcs would notice any of us, anyway_, Elladan smiled to himself, crawling another yard forward. Then he stopped, waiting for any kind of sign that would tell him how to proceed.

But instead of a whistle, there came a silent snap of a twig when Asthaldo walked to the open, not even trying to conceal himself. "All wasted," he shouted. "They ran off, entire pack. Bloody cowards," he cursed, looking at the direction where the enemy had seemingly gone.

"Shall we give them a pursuit?" Elrohir asked, rising from his place in the underbrush.

"It would be a waste of an effort. Besides, we must return to Imladris, even if only to refill our supplies," Dínnor stated as he also appeared, seemingly disappointed.

"Very well," Elrohir nodded, seeing the wisdom in this. They needed more arrows and medical supplies, if nothing else. It wasn't an option that they would use half-broken arrows or risk some of their lives when they knew that they had no proper things to aid a wounded if a battle came to that. There were always risks, even when hunting in a group as skilled as this.

"Where is Thalión?" Elladan asked, looking about.

"I guess he will make certain that the Orcs are indeed running," Asthaldo announced, inspecting one if his short swords for injuries.

"I am back already," came a smooth voice and Elrohir practically jumped, only then realising that Thalión was standing behind him.

"If you have had enough…" Dínnor smiled at his silver haired cousin.

"Of course," Thalión answered, laying an apologising hand on Elrohir's shoulder. "The enemy indeed continues south, probably over mountains in the process. The Warg-riders are drawing far ahead, thinking they might escape even if the others don't."

"They are splitting. Maybe there was even more disagreement between them that we noticed," Asthaldo grinned.

"There is always disagreement among Orcs, even if there is only one of them," Elladan muttered.

The others laughed, and then they started walking, counting how long it would take before they would reach the Valley again. It took them five hours to reach their horses that they had left on the roots of the mountains. They rode thorough the night, reaching the Valley at midday. Their horses were tired, but knowing they would be able to rest some days had kept them in a good pace.

As Elladan drew his horse to a halt on the courtyard, he immediately spotted new Elves among the crowd that was already gathering to welcome them. And some of the Elves that had been here when they left where nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Legolas?" Dínnor asked before he had even dismounted, pointing his question to Glorfindel who was just within earshot.

"He left the Valley a day ago," the warrior said, earning a confused look from the five arrivals. "He disappeared during the night. But do not worry," he hastened to assure, "Rafél went with him. Or that is what we have come up with: they are both gone and so are their horses. Most likely they went to Gondor."

"Why would they go there?" Elrohir asked, puzzled.

"And without us!" Asthaldo exclaimed. "I must teach that insolent brat some manners when I reach him…"

"Ithilien Elves. A lot of them. Too many in one place, expect in Ithilien where they should be in," Thalión said quietly, observing the Elves around them.

"True," Dínnor agreed. "Well, as long as Legolas stays within Rafél's good care we needn't to worry. But now you may tell us what is going on in here."

* * *

When Elves travel with haste, it is a sight to behold, and an act that no other race could mimic. Elves don't need sleep and very little food, their way-bread keeping them in strength for long periods of time. Elven horses have a legendary stamina, and it seems that some of their rider's endurance is transferred to them.

Journeying swiftly south from Imladris, Legolas and Rafél didn't meet any trouble on their way to the Gap of Rohan. They seldom stopped, only to rest their horses and to fill their water-skins, or to make sure they were not followed from any side. The day when they reached the Gap was dark and misty, wind blowing a slight drizzle of rain from the mountains. The wind, on the others hand, indicated that they would have a hard rain before nightfall.

Wrapped in his cloak, Legolas rode behind Rafél, their pace slackening with each passing hour. They barely saw ahead of them, their horses walking with their heads down, clearly as unhappy as their riders. Even if the Elves are not affected by the weather in any conditions, it didn't mean that they liked to travel in weather like this. And the main reason for the dislike was borne from the years of hunting in Mirkwood: in weather like this – or any other difficult weather – you became more equal with your enemy.

Rafél knew this and it worried him, even if any kind of threat hadn't yet presented itself. The years with Legolas had revised him into an ever-wary warrior who always sought to protect his Prince. Glancing back at Legolas, Rafél pondered again if they should stop to wait for the weather to change. Their horses were also cold and thoroughly soaked. It would not do good for the poor beasts to go on like this. "Legolas…" Rafél called back just when Lumén jerked into a halt, his head rising high, nostrils flaring. Rafél leaned down, running a hand along the long white neck. ")Man cenich?(" he whispered, his brown eyes searching for any kind of possible threat.

Behind the older Elf, Legolas had also stopped, his eyes narrowing as he tried to see through the wind and mist. Arod was shifting nervously under him, dancing from side to another. Legolas cocked his head, trying to sense if there was something out there. He thought he heard something over the roaring of the rain, but he couldn't be sure. A strange tingling sensation on the back of his mind told him that something dark was drawing near. A shooting pain shot down his back along the dark scars that now ran from his shoulders to his lower back, the pain like both burning cold and hot at the same time.

And then it all happened, in a matter of seconds. Something howled in the distance, Arod reared up neighing in terror, and something swift and dark appeared from the midst of the rain and mist, crushing bodily to the horse. Legolas let out a startled shout, trying to turn Arod so they would both avoid collision, but it was too late. The attacking creature leaped with a roar, hitting the rearing Arod squarely to the chest, causing the horse to lose his balance.

Rafél forced Lumén around just to see Arod collapse to the ground, the horse's movements frantic as it tried to get up again, the dark beast also on its feet and ready to continue its attack. In the dimness of the setting sun and mist Rafél easily recognised the form of a Warg now that it was closer and staying still. Cursing bitterly he drew his bow, arrow notched before another heartbeat had passed. From his right he heard more howls and then harsh shouts. _Warg-riders_, his mind informed him automatically. Releasing the arrow, Rafél brought down the Warg that was already upon them and then turned to look for Legolas.

The Prince was kneeling beside Arod, whispering at the horse fervently, trying to get it back to its feet. The other howls got closer and Legolas looked up in alarm just as the enemies came into their view: six Wargs, four of them with Orc-riders.

Terror gave Arod new strength and the horse rose to his feet, nearly knocking Legolas over. The Prince was on his feet in moments, bow in his hands, pushing Arod aside so he could see the enemy. Rafél's bow was already singing and Legolas took aim, his mind calculating which of the enemies he should bring down first.

A neigh of pain from Lumén tore Legolas gaze away from the advancing villains, and his eyes widened in shock. One of the Warg-riders had seemingly got too close, a sharp scimitar swinging in the air, a cloud of blood following it. From his position Legolas wasn't sure where the weapon hit, but Lumén's unstable step aside told him that at least the horse was hurt. Rafél had raised his own blade, meeting the Orc's next blow with a sure hand. One slight dodge and another swing from the warrior brought the Orc down, and using the momentary confusion at his profit, Legolas crouched low, taking aim from between Lumén's legs and sending his notched arrow straight to the Warg's head. The wolf-like creature growled, throwing itself back and then collapsed to the ground.

Smiling, Legolas drew another arrow from his quiver, turning his head to the direction of other enemies. A rush of cold pain travelled down his back again, making him grind his teeth together. There was something wrong with him and he didn't like the idea the slightest… More by an instinct than a thought he rolled down to the wet ground, avoiding a club directed to his head. A hiss beside his head told that his opponent wasn't too happy about his miss, and Legolas rolled back up, finding himself face to face with another Warg-rider and his mount.

The Warg opened its huge jaws, snarling down at the Elf. A flash of memory ran through Legolas' mind, making him hiss slowly. He had nearly lost his life to these beasts once before: he had no intention to repeat that again. Quickly he raised his bow, launching the arrow straight to the great face before him. Before the arrow hit, Legolas' right hand had already found the knife at his side and he was on the move, raising his blade high to strike it to the unprepared Orc.

The Orc indeed was surprised, trying to stay on the back of his struggling mount. Cursing bitterly with his own black tongue the Orc raised his own weapon, searching for the Elf as the Warg collapsed to the ground, still struggling for its life. A flash of blade was all that the Orc saw when Legolas reached him from the opposite side, his Elven blade sinking deep to the dark flesh.

Yanking his blade free Legolas let the Orc fall to the ground. Trying to catch his breath Legolas turned to see how the rest of the fighting was moving on. Rafél had put down the other one of the riderless Wargs and dispatched another of its rider, but he was now in trouble with another Orc and his Warg. Lumén was limping badly, blood staining his right side and as the horse spun around under Rafél's skilful command, Legolas saw that the earlier blow of scimitar had drawn a deep gash to Lumén's right shoulder. The scent of fresh blood clearly drew the Wargs' attention, for one of the beasts was advancing Lumén from the other side.

Counting in his head the number of enemies, Legolas turned to look for the other free Warg, finding it soon enough: the beast had driven Arod further away from the battle, making swift attacks towards the tired horse. Legolas raised his bow again, taking aim towards the Warg harassing his horse. An outraged cry from Rafél made Legolas turn his attention before he was able to shoot, and marking that his guardian was going to loose his life at any moment, Legolas hesitated. The Orc currently fighting the Elf had managed to slice Rafél's arm and the force behind Rafél's blows was slackening. Lumén tried to help his rider but the constant attacks from the Wargs on both sides were growing more bold and closer to their marks. Making up his mind Legolas turned to shoot the Warg before Arod, not staying to look if he hit or not. Another arrow notched in his bow, Legolas let out a shout, running forward to join Rafél's fight.

The Warg nearer Legolas turned around when an arrow hit it from behind, leaping towards the approaching archer with an enraged growl. Legolas dodged aside, his free hand finding a small knife in his boot, and letting the Warg run past him he sliced the side of the beast, feeling a rush of warm blood upon his hand. Re-sheathing the knife the took careful aim, sending another arrow to the Orc's direction, hitting the enemy's shoulder, the arrow passing Rafél within five inches when the other Elf leaned down.

Throwing Legolas a quick smile Rafél swung his blade, relieving the Orc of his head. A whisper on the back of his mind guided Rafél and he swiftly pulled Lumén backwards, giving Legolas free line to shoot. Before the Warg was able to follow, a whistle of an arrow travelled through the air, the strength of the hitting shaft throwing the animal back.

Smiling to himself Legolas lowered his bow, throwing a worried glance at Rafél's direction. The guardian soothed Lumén, preparing to dismount, his eyes meeting Legolas'. With sudden shock the brown eyes widened, Rafél's mouth opening as he was about to shout something. Swifter than words, an alarming whisper ran through Legolas' mind and he threw himself aside, a Warg's jaws closing in the place where he had just stood.

The beast attacked again, its movements slowed by the deep wound at its side but the desire to kill numbed all the pain it might have felt. Legolas had no time to get onto his feet and he didn't even try to, instead drawing his long knife and striking it towards the attacker's head, feeling new flow of blood upon himself as the blade sank to the beast's neck. Sharp claws dug into his skin and a giant head searched for its prey, fangs only inches from Legolas' face. The Prince pushed the Warg back, drawing his small dagger out in the process, grimacing at the pain he felt in his lower body as the fresh wounds were torn in the process.

As the Warg attacked again Legolas sank both of his blades home, trying to rotate the longer knife so it would do more damage. The Warg growled, a furious light burning in its eyes. For a moment Legolas saw his own image reflecting in the eyes of his enemy, but then the Warg sprang back with a pained howl, turned around and drove itself into Rafél's waiting sword.

Rising to a sitting position, Legolas looked up at his guardian, a thankful smile on his face.

"My duty," Rafél murmured, his eyes running over Legolas' blood-stained body. There were many wounds there and Rafél sighed, wishing for the rain and the cold wind to stop: their night would be uncomfortable enough as it was.

A nearby neigh drew the Elves' attention to their side, and Legolas bounced up with a wordless cry. Partially running and sliding on the wet ground he reached the spot where Arod now lay in the muddy grass. The Warg that had been hunting the horse lay dead few yards away, Legolas' arrow still embedded to its side. The tiny rivers of rainwater were stained red with blood, mixing with the mud and plants.

Legolas dropped himself beside his loyal steed, caressing the white head tenderly. Arod snorted slightly, pushing his head wearily against Legolas' hands, his muzzle stained with blood. Legolas swallowed a sob that was forming on the back of his throat, his hands sliding over Arod's white coat that was now marred with warm blood and dirt. The horse lowered its head to the ground, blinking slowly.

Legolas stroked Arod's neck tenderly, his eyes running over the strong body that now lay on the ground, blood spreading around it and mixing into the water falling from the sky. The time seemed to stop and Legolas' eyes wandered from ground to the body, his mind barely able to understand what he saw.

Long, deep welts ran across Arod's sides, the marks of the Warg's attacks plainly visible. At least one of his legs was broken, and the gaping wound below Arod's neck was bleeding continually.

Tears in his eyes Legolas drew his knife, smoothing the bloodstained coat once more, whispering inaudible words to the cold air. Bowing his head and kissing Arod's forehead, Legolas closed his eyes, fisting his left hand to Arod's long forelocks. "I am so sorry, my friend. Forgive me…" Legolas sobbed, and then pressed his blade against Arod's chest, driving it home. The horse snorted softly, shifting slightly, and then slumped down.

Legolas bit his lip, drawing blood, his hands clutching at Arod as he felt the horse's life drift away. After all their years together Arod died on a nameless field by the hand of his own master.

Rafél stood silent for a long moment, staring at the sight before him. He felt Legolas' loss and sorrow touch his spirit and it mingled with his own. The rain washed away the blood that no longer flowed, colouring the ground dark read. But some blood still flowed in the cold night and Rafél shifted, feeling a river of blood travel down his hand, dripping to the ground from the tips of his fingers. Glancing around, Rafél listened for a moment, but he heard nothing else but Legolas' unsteady breathing and Lumén who stood behind them. Yet even if they were alone, this was not a place for them to stay.

Stepping forward, Rafél placed his hands upon Legolas' shoulders, drawing the younger Elf away from the dead horse. "No…" Legolas whimpered, tears muffling his voice, but Rafél's touch was adamant as he pulled Legolas to his feet, all but dragging him away. After a moment Rafél felt Legolas' hands fist into his tunic and he slipped his right arm around his Prince's waist, leaning him against his own taller body as he kept walking. Lumén soon appeared to their side, offering Rafél the little help he could. Rafél smiled to his steed, his left hand taking hold of the dirty white mane. Together they travelled through the rain, seeking for shelter.

None of them knew if it was only a matter of luck that they found a small group of trees some miles away. Eternally grateful, Rafél let go of Lumén's mane as they entered the shelter. Legolas was by then walking on his own, his eyes distant and shimmering with sorrow.

Rafél walked ahead, his senses scanning the small patch of forest before them. When nothing informed him of danger he dropped the packs he had been carrying, turning around to see that Legolas indeed followed. The youth was leaning against a tree, his eyes closed. Lumén stood near him, as if guarding him while Rafél had his attention elsewhere.

Smiling at his horse, Rafél looked up to the sky and frowned. The night would be cold and misty, even if the rain was going to end soon. They would need to built a fire and tend their wounds. As if thinking about tending injuries would have made difference, the pain returned to Rafél. He grunted, pressing his hand against a hidden wound on his shoulder. He would have to push back his own discomfort for a moment to see for Legolas' needs.

Rafél turned around, glancing at Legolas. "Wait here. I will see if I can find a dried place or some firewood." Legolas merely nodded, his eyes still closed. Drawing a deep breath, Rafél turned back to his original direction, walking away swiftly. It seemed that the bond he had formed with Legolas during the years of their time together had returned, stronger than ever. As an addition to his own discomfort he now felt Legolas' pain. _But think at the bright side: our connection has remained intact through his journey with the Fellowship and his years in Ithilien. It seems that even his confrontation with Balrog hasn't done any harm to our bond._ This was small consolation to Rafél, but enough to keep him moving.

After he had walked some minutes he halted, blinking in disbelief and drawing the water away from his face with his less wounded hand. Before him rose a small wall of stone, and on the root of it lay a small cave, partially hidden by the trees. Shaking his head in sudden relief Rafél stepped forward, quickly checking that this was no trap or a hiding place of Orcs. When he found nothing he headed back, blessing the Valar for their gift.

Legolas still stood in the shade of the trees, resting his head against Lumén, his hands slowly stroking the white neck. Legolas didn't move when Rafél appeared, and Lumén only moved his ears, hanging his head tiredly.

"Soon you shall rest," Rafél encouraged his horse. "Legolas, I found a fine shelter for us. The way is not long." Legolas glanced at Rafél, frowning, as if his mind was somewhere else. Sighing, Rafél grabbed Legolas' hand, guiding the other Elf forward. He collected the packs as they passed by them and then led them all back to the cave.

It was a small space but none of them was going to complain. Laying Legolas to the hard floor Rafél threw their packs to the back of the cave and then turned to look at Lumén behind him. He backed off from the shelter, stood up and walked to his horse, whispering soft words to the listening ears.

Legolas turned around to look at Rafél, his mind slowly beginning to form coherent thoughts again. At that moment Rafél released Lumén and the horse came forward, looking at the cave carefully. Then the horse lowered his head, walking into the cave that was just high enough for him. With a rather awkward move Lumén kneeled down, lying down onto the ground with a soft neigh. Legolas smiled, drawing himself to the horse's side, whispering comforting words.

Rafél appeared soon, Legolas not being sure if he had even been gone. Dropping a pile of wood to the cave's floor Rafél quickly built a small fire. Lighting it was a harder process for the wood was wet and the air was damp. After a valiant fight Rafél finally managed to get the small branches to burn, and they all sighed contentedly.

Crawling to the corner where their packs laid Rafél quickly searched for clean garments and healing supplies. After he found all he hunted for he returned at Legolas' side, indicating the younger Elf to take off his tunic.

"You are also hurt," Legolas protested, not making a move from his place where he laid beside Lumén. "And so is Lumén. If we wish to travel with any significant speed, we should first tend for the horse." Rafél only stared at Legolas with a blank look, and the Prince rose partly to sit up. "The horse, Rafél," Legolas said, his voice as cold as the air around them.

Rafél blinked, and then shook his head. "You are at my responsibility –"

"As far as I remember, you are no longer my guardian, and therefor not responsible of my condition in any way," Legolas snapped.

"I am not?" Rafél said, a dry smile upon his face. He moved a little closer to Legolas, his eyes narrowing. "As far as I remember, your father has never liberated me from my duty."

Legolas blinked, surprised. "I thought it was liberating enough that I went away with the Fellowship – without you. And that you didn't join me in Ithilien," Legolas continued when he noticed Rafél was going to argue.

Rafél's gaze turned bitter, as if he regretted something. "You never asked me to join you," he finally whispered.

"I guess that means something," Legolas continued, though his voice faltered. "If my father did not command you to join me, I would take it so that he has… liberated you."

Rafél met Legolas' eyes, his chest feeling unnaturally heavy. His spirit had turned suddenly cold, and for a moment he wondered if this was what Legolas felt at the moment. But as he reached forward with his _fëa_ he felt Legolas' spirit touch his, the other's sorrow and remorse pulling all other feeling aside.

Legolas lowered his eyes, his fingers drawing paths on the sand-covered floor. He felt Rafél reach towards him, searching the answer from his heart rather than from his lips. And as much as Legolas could have wished to tell him otherwise, his heart never lied to his guardian: he didn't think he would survive without Rafél. He didn't wish to be without him. As the darkness of the Balrog was eating his soul, Rafél gave him strength and faith to fight it. He had a reason to continue. And most of all, he was not alone.

The older Elf moved forward, laying his supplies to the side as his hands worked on Legolas' clothing, removing it gently. Legolas glanced up at him, the blue eyes dark even in the light of the small fire. Rafél smiled down at him, running a soothing hand through the Prince's hair before he stood up, taking one of the clean clothes with him to wet it in a small pond he had seen nearby. When he returned, Legolas was sitting next to the fire, chewing his lip. Giving Rafél a small smile he welcomed the other, seemingly ready to accept the other's help.

Sitting down beside Legolas, Rafél looked at the younger Elf critically. Most of the wounds made by the Warg were still bleeding, but they didn't seem infected. Silently Legolas stripped off the last garments upon him, wishing to be done with this as soon as possible. Rafél was hurt himself and they would need Lumén later to travel. Of the three of them, his wounds should have been tended after the others'.

Rafél cleaned Legolas' wounds carefully, not wishing to cause more unnecessary pain. As his hands travelled over Legolas' back to inspect it he halted above the older scars, his eyes darkening as he eyed the dark, nearly black marks tainting Legolas' fair skin. Moving ahead, he dressed the wounds, making sure they were bound properly. When he was finished he wrapped a cloak around Legolas' bare body, finding the other's stare upon him.

")_Hannon le_(," Legolas said quietly, his eyes sincere. ")Forgive me my words, for I meant none of them. You are always welcome to follow me, even if I do not suffer to be taken care of as I was as a child.("

Rafél laughed at this, his hands unfastening his own tunic. To his surprise, Legolas' hands joined his, helping him out of the disturbing clothes. Legolas gasped as his upper body was revealed, his skin bloodied and torn in many places. He had a cut in his right arm and his right shoulder had a deep gash in it. The blood had trickled down his hand and chest, and his back didn't look much better. "It is merely blood," Rafél comforted Legolas, reaching for the wet cloth.

Faster than his wounded protector, Legolas took the cloth, standing up to clean it in the pond. He returned swiftly, sitting at Rafél's side and then began to clean Rafél's wound in turn. It took a little more time, for Legolas had less experience of the wounded and Rafél's injuries were deep. When Legolas was finally done they both turned their attention to Lumén, drying the horse and washing his injuries the best they could.

Then, worn and tired, the Elves sat down, leaning against Lumén's side. The rain had stopped some time ago and the small fire was giving them some warmth, but despite all that Legolas found himself shivering. Rafél noted this, his worry surfacing again. Perhaps it had been too early for Legolas to leave Imladris. But they had already waited months, and any Elf should have recovered from such a distant battle by then. But Legolas now bore upon him other wounds than those caused by Orcs or Wargs.

With a tired sigh Rafél leaned back against Lumén's side, drawing Legolas to lie against his chest. For once, Legolas didn't object, probably too worn to mind being treated like this. Sharing his body's heat with Legolas, Rafél listened the other Elf's breathing slow down as Legolas fell asleep, and after few hours of guarding Rafél allowed himself to drift off, trusting that his senses would wake him if a need came.

* * *

The White Mountains towered before them in the distance, the Misty Mountains slowly falling behind. Too slowly to Legolas' liking. But he didn't voice his thoughts, knowing that they journeyed with all their reasonable speed at the moment. Lumén's leg still needed time to heal properly and caring two Elves was eating the brave horse's strength. At times they let Lumén rest, jogging beside him, or then they took turns in riding. Not that it mattered if a horse carried one Elf or two: the Firstborns were lightly built and didn't weight much.

Legolas halted on a grassy mound, his eyes running over the landscape before him. There was two options for them now: to take the southern way that would be swifter if they wished to reach Ithilien – or Minas Tirith. Going to the northern side of the Mountains would bring them among Rohirrim, and they could give them another horse.

"Many paths lay before us," Rafél stated as he stopped beside Legolas. "Another horse would aid our journey."

"I know," Legolas said quietly.

"I thought you would," Rafél noted, lowering his head. "You know a lot of things nowadays."

"What was that supposed to mean?" Legolas demanded, puzzled.

"You commanded Thaíly to scout for you," Rafél said, his gaze fixing on the horizon.

"And what bad there is in that? He can give us information we wouldn't get in any other way," Legolas continued quietly, watching Rafél carefully.

"I didn't say it is a negative thing. It merely proves that you are taking the lead. Giving commands. That surprises me."

"I need to know what is happening around me. Being ignorant makes me…" Legolas halted, searching for a word.

"Touchy. Or very near to it. You always got annoyed when I kept things from you," Rafél laughed.

"Most likely you are still keeping things from me," Legolas muttered.

"How could I?" Rafél asked, his face and eyes serious. Legolas glanced at him, and their spirits touched each other briefly.

"Maybe you cannot," Legolas said finally, his voice strange to his own ears. "But it is your choice."

"So it is," Rafél whispered, whistling to call Lumén nearer. "One I never regret," he turned to look at Legolas as he continued down the hill.

"Someday, you may," Legolas breathed out, making sure that his _fëa_ gave no hint to Rafél about his thoughts. Following the older Elf Legolas mulled in his thoughts. His bond with Rafél had grown to a new level after the attack of the Wargs – actually it had began to reform since the attack to Woodland Realm. He did not quite understand it, but it felt right, and so he didn't worry over it. Rafél had always been able to sense him on completely another level when compared to others, and this little more intimate link between them made Legolas only feel more secured. For once, he felt safe. Truly, he was not alone.

Drawn into his thought Legolas nearly missed the movement on his right. He stopped, turning his head to the direction where he thought he had seen something. Yes, something moved on the plains. For a moment Legolas thought that their luck had turned and a caravan of some sort was drawing near to them, but when he looked longer, he realised it was a lonesome figure.

"A lonely horse," Rafél guessed beside him, his eyes narrowed. "It moves slowly."

"Let's take a look," Legolas said, and together they started forward the nearing creature.

Rafél had indeed been right: it was a lonely horse, hurt from one of its legs. When the two Elves and their horse reached the animal it halted, its great head rising up, ears flattening. "It is wounded," Rafél said calmly from where they stood some yards away from the horse. "Possibly by a trap of some sort."

Legolas nodded, seeing the front leg that was slightly bloodied and painful looking. Slowly, he walked towards the horse, whispering soft Sindarin words as he advanced. The great black horse started backwards, snorting nervously. Legolas kept walking, his voice calming. The horse had halted again, his nostrils flaring as he smelled the air, and then taking a tentative step forward he walked up to Legolas, stopping in front of the Sinda. Legolas slid his hand carefully along the strong neck, still whispering soothingly. The horse neighed softly, thrusting his head against Legolas.

Rafél started froward slowly, letting the horse smell him before he kneeled down to observe the injury. "I do not think the leg is broken. A firm bandage should help," the guardian said finally, looking up at Legolas.

Legolas nodded, running his hand through the black mane, earning another neigh. "Let us do that, and then we shall continue."

Rafél rose an eyebrow as he rummaged his pack. "This is a magnificent horse, Legolas. I do not think he has a master, though."

"No, he has not. But his spirit is free: I can see it in his eyes. No creature like this should be separated from its freedom."

Rafél shook his head, finishing his task and rose up from the ground and patting the horse's neck. "Do you speak of this fine animal here or of yourself?"

Legolas didn't answer, but his eyes beheld enough answer to Rafél. With a final stroke along the horse's neck Legolas stepped back, beginning to walk at the direction of north again. Rafél started after him, throwing a quick glance at the black horse standing on its place like rooted.

They walked ahead again, this time in silence, both in their thoughts. After a hour or two Rafél halted, looking at the distance on their right. Legolas stopped when he noticed he was walking alone, looking at Rafél questioningly. "He is following us," Rafél said, and Legolas turned to look at the same direction with the other Elf. And indeed, some hundred yards away from them stood the same great black horse which they had met previously. The horse had halted at the same time with them and he was watching the Elves intently. Rafél smiled, turning his head at Legolas' direction. "It seems that two untamed free spirits recognise each other."

Legolas shrugged and then let out a whistle. The horse's ears twisted and with a loud neigh it galloped to Legolas, rearing up before the Elf as if saluting him or showing his strength. Then the horse calmed down, waiting patiently before Legolas. The Prince took a step forward, laying a gentle hand upon the horse's forehead. "Morchaint," he whispered, and the horse whinnied, throwing his head to the side. Legolas kissed the dark forehead and then stepped to his new friend's side, lightly mounting him. Morchaint neighed, whisking his tail and dancing excitedly, as if willing to keep going. "Easy my friend. You are still hurt and so is Lumén. We shall be going, but not with all our speed," Legolas calmed the horse.

"It is a beast," Rafél laughed when he mounted Lumén. "I can see that much in him. Fearless and untamed. But you would not have anything less, would you?"

Legolas gave him a sceptical look. "By the necessity of the situation I must allow his help..."

"Right, right…" Rafél mumbled, turning Lumén more south. "Let us be on our way as long as the fortune favours us."

Mumbling to himself Legolas spurred Morchaint forward to a light trot. The great horse moved smoothly under him, even more so than Arod ever had. Even if Morchaint was greater by size than any other horse Legolas had ridden before, his step was easy and light. Giving Morchaint a little more encouragement, Legolas reached Rafél's side, and together they rode on.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**  
_Man cenich? _– What do you see?

**Author's Notes:** To those maybe/possibly (or then not) wondering, the group of Orcs and Wargs attacking Legolas and Rafél was indeed part of the very same group that the twins and the Cousins drove to the direction of south. How very nice of them… I hope you enjoyed this chapter (let me know, please!).


	21. Chapter 19: Meeting in the Forest

**Chapter 19: Meeting in the Forest**

**

* * *

**

Some days later,  
**Ithilien**

Aragorn raised his hand, motioning the group of riders to halt. He turned Roheryn around to see the commander of his escort, Gimli mumbling something about unpractical horses behind him. "You may wait here. I would wish to walk with Master Dwarf in private."

The Men looked uncertain, but the grim commander nodded, knowing that if aught would happen, they would be near enough to protect their King. And of course Elessar had the Dwarf with him, who was not an easy defender to fight over. "Yes, my Lord."

Aragorn nodded and then dismounted Roheryn, helping Gimli down after him. Roheryn by his side Aragorn walked deeper into the forest, Gimli following him silently.

After some time Gimli looked back, no longer hearing the men behind them. "Well, I think we are out of earshot."

Aragorn nodded, letting go of Roheryn's bridle to let the horse go drink from a river running nearby. Standing in silence and staring into the woods before them, Aragorn was in his thoughts for a long moment. Gimli stood beside him, knowing that the reason why they had come here wasn't that they wished to speak in private: Aragorn merely wanted some time in peace in a wilderness that had always a calming effect at him.

The current situation of Gondor was getting quite tense. Or at least Aragorn's own position. The King was currently driven by two forces: he was a King of Men, but he had been raised by the Elves and he respected the elder race greatly. Seeing his people attack the Elves drove Aragorn to a verge of madness: the people of Gondor expected certain behaviour from him, and yet Aragorn himself wished only to speak on the behalf of the Elves. Not that none of that mattered anymore: the Elves were gone.

Gimli leaned on the shaft of his axe, shaking his head. He had tried to stand beside Aragorn, to give the Man his support, but what was he able to do? Gimli himself was shocked by the Elves' departure, and worry for his own Elven companion was great. Again fingering the jewel around his neck, Gimli closed his eyes, imaging the last days he had shared with Legolas. _So many things are now left unsaid. It is quite possible that I will never see him again. The call of the Sea has got its hold of him, and if all his people leave, why should he stay? And he also thinks me dead. Maybe I should have sent him a message, or something. But the decision is his to make, not mine…_

Beside the river, Roheryn neighed, and to the surprise of his riders, another neigh answered. Raising his head, Aragorn watched as a great black horse emerged from the forest, wading into the shallow water. Roheryn walked forward to meet the other animal and their muzzles touched as they inspected each other.

From their place some hundred yards away Aragorn and Gimli watched the strange scene play before them. "I didn't know that you have wild horses in Gondor," Gimli muttered quietly as they kneeled down into the nearby bushed to hide themselves.

"Maybe it has escaped," Aragorn said, his voice telling that he didn't really care about the matter. The horses stood together in the middle of the slowly running river, softly exploring each other, as if sharing news.

Then suddenly another figure appeared and Aragorn sucked in his breath when he recognised an Elf. They weren't near enough to see the creature clearly, but Aragorn easily sensed that it was indeed an Elf. The green-grey hood covered the Elf's face and bore no marking that would have indicated his or hers identity. The Elf approached Roheryn and the brown horse welcomed the stranger with a happy neigh.

The Elf ran a hand over the packages that hung from Roheryn's saddle, clearly exploring. Maybe the Elf was trying to find out to whom the horse belonged and where his rider was, Aragorn reasoned. A hand that had been rummaging through a saddle pack suddenly halted and Gimli shifted nervously. "Legolas' knives are in that pack," the Dwarf said under his breath.

Aragorn turned to look at Gimli, puzzled. "You have Legolas' knives, why?"

"I took them with me when I left Legolas' rooms to join the battle. I suppose I never had a chance to give them to him, and I have carried them with me since."

In the meanwhile the Elf had indeed drawn out the white knives, drawing one from its sheath. The hooded head rose to look at the direction where Aragorn and Gimli were hiding, and one graceful hand slid the hood down as the Elf stepped out of the river.

Aragorn gasped out in disbelief and Gimli let out something like a roar, surprise on his face. "I might have known…" the Dwarf muttered, but Aragorn didn't even smile as he sprang up from the bushes, presenting himself to the Elf.

"By the Valar what are _you_ doing here?" Aragorn questioned while he walked down the slope. "Though I have never been happier to se you, my friend."

"I am glad to see you are also well, Aragorn," a smooth voice replied and the blue eyes shifted to the direction of bushes where Aragorn had appeared from, and suddenly the Elf froze, disbelief in his face.

"Ah, I assume you haven't heard of the good news, then," Aragorn said quietly as he stopped beside the stricken looking Legolas.

Gimli had also emerged from their shelter, looking somewhat uncertain as how to proceed. Legolas stared at him as if he was seeing a ghost, and Aragorn did nothing to help with the situation.

"Gimli?" Legolas finally asked, his voice tentative. He took a careful step forward, eyeing Gimli as if he thought he would vanish into the thin air at any moment.

"Yes, it is me, you silly Elf. Stop gaping at me like that and explain yourself. I heard you were healing in Rivendell, but if I am not mistaken, you are quite far away from there."

Legolas face got defiant, but even that was not enough to hide the relief and joy in his eyes. "If you do not remember, we Elves heal rather quickly. I do not know how much healing you Dwarves need after a battle, but as for myself –"

A high whistle broke the air and Legolas looked up in alarm, the black horse also lifting its head. Faster than an eye could see, Legolas dodged, just avoiding the arrow that shot out from the hill behind Gimli. Aragorn spun around in alarm just when the men of his escort came into view, a new set of arrows already notched.

Legolas cursed under his breath, falling back and mounting Morchaint as the horse sprang at his side. A new wave of arrows flew through the air but none of them reached the Elf that was already disappearing to the woods on the other side of the water. One arrow flew from the trees beyond the river, making the Men of Gondor crouch down for cover.

"Hold your fire!" Aragorn shouted, wishing that Gimli would somehow keep himself from mashing his axe into the nearest man. "What is this foolishness!"

"It was an Elf, my Lord," the commander said, his face serious as he walked to his King, watching the opposite bank distrustfully. No more arrows came, however, and the men dared to stand up again.

"And what has that to do with anything? You attacked him!" Aragorn growled, fighting an inner battle not to strangle the man before him.

"We were merely protecting you, my Lord. The Elves are threat to all our people," the commander explained.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!" Gimli exclaimed, his face a dangerous shade of red.

"I _never_ gave an order to attack the Elves," Aragorn hissed. "Quite the opposite. You violated both my trust and authority when you attacked him – or the others of his kin."

"Well, he is gone," Gimli said quietly, reaching Aragorn's side. "Let us go back to the city. He will come there when things have calmed."

Aragorn nodded reluctantly, and then summoned Roheryn. He didn't think that Legolas would be foolish enough to try to enter Minas Tirith. At least he hoped so. But he would find a way to meet his friend, soon. There were things they had to talk about.

The ride back to the city was quiet, the men trying to look as invisible as possible in their King's eyes. Even if they did not share Aragorn's opinion, they had got a good picture of what their King thought about their actions.

On a hilltop, covered by the trees, Legolas sat upon Morchaint, watching the silent company disappear from the view. A soft rustle of leaves told him that Rafél had approached him, and he nodded at his guardian as Rafél guided Lumén to stand beside the black horse.

"Things will change," Rafél said, glancing at Legolas.

"What have we ever done…" Legolas whispered, his eyes closing in silent despair.

"Not we, but someone else," Rafél replied, his eyes hardening. "Who ever killed Queen Arwen and Lady Éowyn wanted to put the blame upon the Elves, and is playing with Men's anger like a master harpist."

"What can we do? It may take forever to the Men to forget," Legolas sighed, shaking his head.

"When the truth is discovered, there is no longer hate towards the Elves," Rafél reasoned.

"But there is no Elves, either," Legolas finished, turning Morchaint around and riding into the shades of the forest. At the moment, he understood only too well why his people had fled from Ithilien.

_to be continued…_


	22. Chapter 20: Chasing an Elf

**Chapter 20: Chasing an Elf**

* * *

Legolas rode through the dark night, trying to soothe his raging thoughts. His meeting with Aragorn and Gimli had left much to desire, and Legolas felt unsure as how to continue. He would not dare to try entering Minas Tirith, but he wished to speak with Aragorn urgently. And now that he had found out that Gimli was alive…

Legolas felt dizzy with joy. Maybe in the midst of this nightmare the Valar were still smiling at him. But Gimli owed him dearly for making him worry so. Maybe the Dwarf still hadn't understood that Elves didn't play with death: for them, it was a thing far more serious than to the mortals. _But Gimli looked just as surprised like I did. But surely Aragorn told him I am alive. But however the things are, I am glad. And much I would now desire to hear Gimli's story: I am sure it would prove interesting._

Morchaint snorted, bowing his head as they passed under a low branch, Legolas mimicking the horse's actions unconsciously. His mind still on their own paths, Legolas rode on, a small wind playing around him in the trees.

The situation of Gondor was alarming. It seemed that Aragorn's absence had created a far more dangerous circumstances that any of them had ever expected. Though it seemed that even now when Aragorn was back, his words had not much worth. _What kind of evil is against us? The Men of Gondor are like possessed, their anger spurring them into more brutal actions. Perhaps it was wise that my people left Ithilien before something far worse happened. But yet I wonder who is behind all this: Arwen's death, framing Elves guilty of it, possibly organising the attack to Eryn Lasgalen, and now rising Men against Elves – as well as their King. But soon their anger will fade and they will see their mistake. I just wish that Aragorn has patience to wait that long._

Morchaint snorted again, this time halting completely. The black head rose up, nostrils flaring and ears moving constantly. Legolas also forced his focus upon this world, looking around, seeing nothing but the dark forest.

He could have continued his way in peace if he had been a normal traveller – but he was an Elf.

His mind sensed it before he even put thought into it. The wind seemed to turn chill, the silent song of threes ceasing completely. The scars in Legolas' back tingled, the feeling swiftly turning unpleasant, almost painful.

The archer shifted, running a calming hand along Morchaint's strong neck. The horse threw his head to the side, neighing softly. Legolas frowned, trying to identify the feel of darkness that seemed to descend upon the forest. Dark clouds veiled the moon and the stars, covering the world in shadows.

Morchaint shifted nervously, and Legolas thought he heard a sound of hooves. Many hooves. Cocking his head, Legolas listened, his hand drawing nearer to his white knives. There was no mistake that something evil was present, but was it approaching or hunting the ones approaching? Waiting with a patience that Rafél had honed into him during their years together, Legolas waited, readying himself. At the moment he hoped he would have allowed Rafél to come with him, but there was little he could do about it now. His only ally was several miles away from him, and he would be forced to meet this possible threat alone.

The wind moaned, as if in pain, and Legolas looked around, no longer hearing the sound of hooves. Morchaint held still, obeying his rider's silent command. They both listened, moments dragging by. Time seemed to stand still when a snort of another horse made Legolas turn his head and his eyes finally saw the arrival. But nothing he could have done prepared him for the shock when he recognised the rider. Or at least he thought he did.

Blinking in disbelief, Legolas shifted, Morchaint backing off from the other horse slowly. The other was still many yards away, but it seemed that Morchaint felt both the fear of his rider and the feel of darkness that flowed from the enemy before them. Legolas moved his other hand to hold Morchaint's mane, his other hand sliding one of the white knives free.

Another low, ragged neigh told Legolas that more enemies had approached, but he didn't turn his head, guessing what he would see. His eyes remained in the one who had approached first. The leader. Legolas recognised him even after all these years, the sight of him impossible to forget.

An ear-piercing, scream-like noise filled the air, making Legolas bite his teeth together in pain. Morchaint bowed his head, flicking his ears, but yet the horse didn't move. Eight other screams answered the one, and Legolas lifted his eyes to meet the burning gaze of the Witch-king of Angmar.

It seemed absurd. It was impossible. But if the world hadn't just turned mad – and Legolas fairly doubted it had – he was now facing an enemy that was supposed to be dead. Destroyed when the One Ring was thrown to the depths of the Mount Doom. But Legolas knew that he was now surrounded by the Nine Riders. He had met them before, and if nothing else, their presence was even stronger.

Sounds told Legolas that the enemy was advancing, even if the leader stayed still. The urge to stay still and submit was strong, and Legolas nearly obeyed it, but he had fought against the shadow too many years in Mirkwood to fall into such a simple trap. Waiting a moment longer, Legolas spurred Morchaint forward, turning the horse aside to avoid being trapped by his enemies. Furious sounds rose from the Black Riders, and Legolas felt a touch of black garment when he galloped by one of the riders.

Finally away from the enemies' ring, Legolas encouraged Morchaint into a greater speed, not daring to look back. It took only a moment before the archer realised that the enemy was indeed pursuing him. Whispering at Morchaint's ear, Legolas glanced swiftly back, seeing all the Nine following him through the dark forest.

_This cannot be true. We all knew that the Ringwraiths were destroyed with Sauron. If this is a doing of the enemy, we have something truly powerful against us._ Bowing down from the way of a low branch, Legolas narrowed his eyes, trying to find a way of escape. He knew that even if Morchaint was fast, running with full speed in a dark forest would not be the wisest thing to do. And some said that horses of the Nine Riders did not tire. Legolas had no real desire to try that, even if it was possible that his pursuers weren't the real Ringwraiths. That thought had crossed Legolas' mind: nine capable riders upon horses, clothed in black, and a some kind of enchantment of evil around them. However it was, Legolas knew that he could not afford of being caught.

* * *

Bret and Josh ran across a field of corn, both finally sinking among the long plants, panting. Their parents would be furious if they knew they were awake at this hour, but neither of them felt tired. It was much more fun to run on the field, damp of night's dew, stars being the only light this far from the houses of the small village. Their older brothers had taught them this habit, running out into the night to play on the dark fields or on the forest's edge, but now as they were adults, only the youths continued the habit.

Bret tugged one stem free, twisting it in his hands absently. Josh did the same, sitting up to look around. Josh's father had once caught them, and they had been grounded for a week. "It is dark tonight," Josh said, shuddering as a cold wind shook the corn. "It was much more brighter some time ago."

"You are imaging," Bret said, still playing with the stem of corn. "You always imagine things. My mother says that those who imagine too much will never be good workmen."

Josh laughed, and then fell silent, sure he had heard something. He looked around, seeing little in the darkness. Then he saw movement on the edge of the forest, about a mile away from them. "Look, Bret, riders!" he gasped.

"Do not be silly. Who would be riding at this hour?" Bret doubted, even if he rose up to look at the pointed direction. Then his mouth fell open, his eyes widening.

Indeed, there were riders, one drawing out of the shelter of the forest while they looked, nine other following behind, as if hunting the one before them. All the horses were dark, the nine on the back wearing black cloaks, but the one riding ahead was entirely different: a golden hair reflected the vain light of the veiled stars, his clothing also different, far more elegant as the rider himself.

While the boys watched, the horses hunting the first drew nearer their hunted, spreading out a little. Then suddenly another rider appeared, also wearing a black cloak but different from those of the nine, spurring his horse ahead of the nine. The new one seemed to be much faster, soon catching up with the pale-haired one. The nine spread even further, surrounding the pale one who was forced to turn aside because of the new one who drew closer all the time.

After a small while all the twelve riders were mingled together, and Josh moved slightly, wishing to see what was happening. It seemed that the one that had arrived last had managed to get right next to the pale one, and there was a flash of something among the riders, a sharp sound of metal against another breaking the silence of the night.

Then suddenly all went still, only the pale riders horse's neighs telling the boys that they indeed weren't watching statues. Then suddenly the pale one's horse ran away, without the rider. The boys turned to look back to the group of the black-cloaked riders, knowing that something strange was going on.

When some of the horses shifted a little the boys were able to see that one of the riders was kneeling in the ground – it looked like to be the new one but they couldn't be sure. Then the kneeling form rose up, picking up something with himself.

"The pale rider," Josh gasped. "They got him," he finally reasoned, his voice shaking with fear and excitement.

"What are they doing?" Bret whispered back.

"I don't know, it is too dark," Josh whispered back, not wishing to be noticed. The ones in black cloaks were very frightening, even from this distance.

"The new one mounted again," Bret stated, pointing out. "I think they are taking the pale one with them."

As soon as this was said, the nine riders turned back to the forest, the tenth riding behind them, holding an unmoving form against his chest. As fast as they had appeared, they vanished, the cold wind lingering on the field.

After a long while the boys got up, finally daring to move, running as fast as they could back to their homes.

_to be continued…_


	23. Chapter 21: Rumours

**Chapter 21: Rumours**

**

* * *

**

Minas Tirith

Gimli wandered through the streets of Minas Tirith, Adír and young Fundal following close behind. A sound of metal ringing against metal filled the air, shouts of Men adding their own essence to the mix.

Faramir walked some distance behind the Dwarves, watching interested how the smaller folk travelled through the streets, searching for a suitable place to do their shopping. They had already passed several smiths – which on Faramir's opinion would have been quite good – but Gimli and his companions had only given a small glance to those and then continued forward. It seemed that the Dwarves knew what they were looking for. After a while the Dwarves stopped before one smithy, speaking quietly with a bearded man dressed in a worn leather tunic. Then they started to list what they needed.

Somewhat relieved, Faramir lifted his hand to sweep away the sweat covering his forehead. As soon as they were done, Faramir would insist for them to return to the higher levels of the city. How the Dwarves managed to work in their deep, hot chasms all day, he did not know. For him, travelling the streets surrounded by warmth-spreading smithies was enough.

Finally the Dwarves were done, thanking the smith with low bows and then turned to the sweating Steward. The amused glint in Gimli's eyes didn't make Faramir feel any better, but it seemed that the Dwarf at least felt slight pity for him. "If you have nothing to do here, we may return back to the palace," the Dwarf announced, and Faramir actually let out a pleased sigh.

"I am very ready to return," Faramir answered as courteously as he could.

There came a low chuckle from one of the other Dwarves, but Gimli merely nodded good-naturedly, heading out towards the gate of the second level. After a small while of walk Fundal stopped, looking at the side to a group of people. Adír also halted, motioning the youth to come along. But the youngster refused, looking at Gimli pointedly. Gimli stalked back, one heavy eyebrow arched. Fundal glanced at the Men again, and then leaned closer to Gimli. "They spoke of an Elf. I didn't hear much, but I am sure they mentioned the word 'Elf'."

Gimli looked at the youth, then at the Men some distance away. Only a few of them where from Minas Tirith, it seemed: some were clothed as those who lived in the villages further away in Gondor. Inching a little closer, Gimli strained his hearing, wishing to catch the word that his younger kinsman had. The shouts on the streets made it hard to hear, and Gimli went even closer, at last being able to hear the voices of Men, even if he couldn't make out the words. Then suddenly a chorus of gasps on the Dwarf's side made him jump. Gimli looked quickly at his side, finding himself staring at a pair of wide eyes. Two young boys stared at the Dwarf with such interest and awe that Gimli found himself smiling despite the situation. It never stopped to amaze him how the other races reacted when seeing him – especially if he travelled with the Elf.

And speaking of an Elf...

Gimli turned back to the crowd, frowning. If he wished to hear, he would have to go closer.

"Are you truly a Dwarf, mister?" a fearful voice asked beside Gimli, and again he turned to the direction of boys.

"Aye, I am. Gimli, son of Glóin, at your service," Gimli said and bowed deeply.

"I am Bret, and this is my friend Josh," said the other boy, seemingly uncertain how he should answer.

"Did you hear anything?" came another young voice from behind Gimli, but it did not, for once, belong to a mannish child.

"Nay, Fundal. Now, go back to Adír and –"

"But I am sure I heard them speak of an Elf," the youth argued, seemingly unwilling to give up.

"An Elf?" other of the boys asked, taking a tentative step forward.

"Yes, an Elf," Gimli sighed.

"What do you want to know about the Elf?" the boy who had been named as Josh asked. "I mean, Dwarves and Elves are not... coming along too well, I suppose."

Gimli couldn't help but laugh, but soon he controlled himself, his eyes alight with mirth. "Most ones of our races don't come along with each other, but I am an exception. I have an Elven friend who would be in trouble all the time if I would not be there for him."

"Oh," Josh said, then glanced at the Men. A strange expression came over his face as he looked at Gimli again, leaning nearer. "Are you a friend to Elves, then? Or only to one?"

"We come along," Gimli said hesitantly. "You could call us good friends, perhaps."

The other boy also came closer, eyeing the older Men. "They say they caught an Elf a night ago," the boy said, and snorted, looking at Gimli. "Do not believe them, for it is a lie: they did not catch the Elf."

"Caught an Elf?" Fundal exclaimed, but Gimli's hand upon his mouth silenced him as the older Dwarf turned his full attention into the boys.

"Why don't you tell me this from the beginning?"

The boys looked at each other, and then Bret continued. "We were on a field that night – not that we were supposed to be there," he added guiltily, but then proceeded again. "We saw a group of riders emerge from the forest: a blond one – the Elf, as we later learned – and riders wearing black cloaks."

"They were frightening," Josh continued as a shudder ran through his lithe form. "They hunted the pale one, but then one more black rider came, and he caught up with the Elf, and they brought him down..." the boy fell silent, as if he was seeing the events again in his mind.

"At the morning, someone brought the Elf into a village near to ours," Bret continued, some hint of anger and shame in his voice. "The adults are planning to burn him at sunset today. They claim that he is involved in the death of the Queen, and that he must die."

Gimli swallowed, trying to control his rising fear desperately. "The Elf, what did he look like?" he spoke out quickly, glancing at the Men still gathered together only few yards away from them. A feel of dread rose in the Dwarf's mind as he tried to guess what the Men were discussing about._ Burning an Elf..._

"He had a blond hair, but he was unconscious when we saw him, and he was quite far away..." Bret frowned, trying to remember.

"His horse was black, like those who hunted him, but it seemed to be more elegant in its moves, and quicker too," Josh added, smiling a little.

"Legolas..." Gimli whispered. It had to be his Elf. No other Elf would do such a ridiculous thing. "Thank you," he said to the boys and turned to return to the others, but then whipped around again, startling the boys. "Where will this... burning take place?" he questioned, trying to hold his voice even.

"Near the crossing of Erui and Anduin, my lord. You will easily find the place if you ask from Men," Josh said. "It is not a great village, but –"

"Again, I thank you, young masters. Now, Fundal, hurry!" Gimli said, racing back to the main street where Faramir was waiting with Adír.

"Is aught wrong, Lord Gimli?" Faramir asked, worried look upon his face.

"We must go back to Aragorn at once," Gimli said as he raced past the Man. "Legolas has again got himself into a trouble," he murmured. _They are going to burn _my _Elf! Unthinkable stupidity... Oh, let them wait until I get there. Or Aragorn. Yes, Aragorn will be definitely furious._

Not bothering to look if the others followed, Gimli raced through the street as fast as his short feet carried, his mind playing many variations about the moment when Aragorn would hear this new set of bad news…

_to be continued…_


	24. Chapter 22: Acts of Hatred

**Chapter 22: Acts of Hatred**

* * *

_Nice, even breaths, Aragorn. It is so easy. No need to scare your men._ Taking a long, steady breath, Aragorn shifted upon Roheryn and then let the air out again. It didn't help, though. His mind was still a flaming inferno of rage. Even the nagging fear on the back of his mind did nothing to ease his anger. He knew he should have been worrying – and by the holy grace of Valar he was! – but his worry turned into hatred swifter than the armies of Mordor fell after Sauron's destruction.

When Gimli had raced into his study to tell this latest news, Aragorn had first thought it as a joke made by the Dwarf's poor sense of humour. But one look to Gimli's eyes had convinced him that the other was indeed not joking. Legolas was in mortal danger.

Around their King, the Men of Gondor rode towards south with all their speed. No man dared to approach Aragorn, and so King Elessar was able to dwell in his own thoughts. Gimli, who was seated behind him was quiet, no doubt sorting out his own thoughts. The restless movement upon the shaft of the Dwarf's axe told something of the course of his mind.

Cursing again the bitter fate that had brought them here, Aragorn urged Roheryn forward, praying with all his heart that they would not be late. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Legolas. He had already lost so much...

* * *

Legolas had never liked of the feeling of being restrained. He loathed being unable to do anything. But at the moment, he felt like a small leaf in the wind, being tossed to a direction and then to another, unable to choose his course.

Shifting, Legolas tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard floor of the room. At least he suspected it was a room. As he was blindfolded, he couldn't see. But his senses had scanned the area since he had regained consciousness, and he was now somewhat aware of his surroundings. A faint sound of voices came from the outside, but he couldn't make out most of them.

Shifting again, Legolas tested his bonds, sighing in frustration as they did not give in. His only option would be to wait. And he didn't like to wait, either. Yes, he had an ever-dying patience of Elves, but when being imprisoned and unable to control the things that happened around him…

Groaning in frustration, Legolas rolled to his side almost violently, his body fighting against its restrains. But whoever had bound him had known well the stamina of Elves, and finally Legolas collapsed to the floor, panting softly.

Oh yes, he would wait. He had no other choice.

After a moment – which Legolas counted to be a few hours – a sound of opening door came to Legolas' sensitive ears. A breath of fresh air flowed to the room and a light of the sun reached Legolas' bound eyes. He was now able to hear many voices, smelling the familiar scent of Men's village.

Rough hands pulled Legolas up, yanking him along ruthlessly. The Elf was able to tell exactly when he was taken out from wherever he had been held in: not because he felt the warmth of the sun upon his skin, or because of the touch of the wind, but because the voices of the people around him turned from spoken words into excited shouts.

Legolas frowned, not actually liking the feeling of not knowing what was happening around him. And being carried along like a broken toy... _Oh well, I have an eternity to heal my wounded pride. If I live that long, that is_, he added somewhat sarcastically.

With a final jerk at his bound hands, Legolas was heaved up onto some kind of a mound and pushed back against something hard. Several pairs of hands held him in place as the ropes were cut. That did not stop Legolas from trying to pry himself loose, but soon his hands were forced back and tied again, and his legs were also fastened into the same object. _A pole of some kind_, Legolas thoughts, running his fingers over the wood that he was now bound into. There was still movement around him, and a moment later he felt a hand yank the blindfold down to his neck - none too gently to Legolas' liking.

The Elf blinked, the late rays of the sun blinding him momentarily. But his Elven senses adapted quickly and he looked around, shock swiftly filling his mind. He was in some kind of a village, surrounded by tens of people, most of them men wearing rather unpleasant expressions. Glancing down, Legolas noticed that his "mound" was actually a pile of dry wood.

Legolas felt like laughing, the insanity of this all taking its toll. If he wouldn't have known better, he would have thought that these people were going to burn him alive like the witches of old time. Which proved to be exactly what they were planning to do. Many Men were already lighting torches, looking at the pyre eagerly.

One of the Men stepped forward, seemingly the speaking man of the group. He stared at the bound Elf with no hint of pity, his raised hand making the people around him fall silent. "Today, we shall judge one of those who are guilty of our Queen's murder. Do we say he is guilty?"

The shouts that rose from the Men around made Legolas cringe in pain. He didn't understand this, and yet he knew all too well what was going on: it had been proven when Aragorn's guards had tried to shoot him in Ithilien. Elves were blamed of Arwen't death, guilty or not. But as far as he remembered, he couldn't tell how he had ended up into hands of these Men...

Shadowy memories ran through Legolas' mind as he ordered his thoughts, desperate to find the answer. Then he finally caught an image of dark riders hunting him. Nazgûls. But what shocked him most was not one of the Ringhwrights. The rider that had joined the others later on the hunt... He puzzled Legolas. It had been too easy for him to bring Legolas down. Too easy for him to catch him. And yet he had done it.

"Do you have something to say for yourself before the punishment will be set? If yes, speak now!" the speaking man yelled, and Legolas pushed back his erratic thoughts.

"If something must be indeed said, I tell you, great Men of Gondor, that this is foolishness, and that you do this against your King's will!" Legolas almost shouted, frustration rising in him.

There were murmurs among the Men, but the speaker only shook his head and then took a torch from one of his fellows, taking a step towards the pyre.

* * *

Rafél cursed bitterly yet again, his eyes searching the ground. It seemed that his senses were completely failing him, for he had not been able to find Legolas after a whole night's search. It was as if the Prince had completely vanished from the face of Arda. After Morchaint's rather wild return to their makeshift camp, Rafél had deemed that something was wrong, and he was getting more sure about it with each passing moment.

Turning Lúmen around again he let out another string of Sindarin curses. Morchaint neighed some distance away from him, ears flattened. It seemed that both horses understood something was seriously wrong.

Suddenly Lúmen halted, Morchaint letting out another neigh only a second later. Rafél turned to look at the same direction with the horses, and to his surprise, he saw a group of Men riding towards him. Considering his options, Rafél loosened his bow from his back, settling down to wait. _Why not. Sometimes desperate tasks need desperate actions._ Letting his eyes roam over the group of riders, Rafél pointed out that they were in haste. _Well, I am sure they will stop for a little chat..._

The riders indeed came to a sudden halt when they noticed Rafél standing on their road where the Elf had placed himself to wait. One of the riders came forward, and Rafél couldn't help but look skywards, sending a quick thanks to Manwë. Then he looked at the arrivals again, bowing his head slightly. "King Elessar," he saluted.

The look upon the King's face was both surprised and puzzled, but suddenly his horse was forced to move sideways, a low voice cursing behind him, and a moment later Gimli came into a view as Roheryn turned to the side unhappily. "Master Rafél," the Dwarf said. "I truly wish you know where Legolas is."

"To be honest, I do not," Rafél answered between gritted teeth. It did not do much good to his pride to admit his fault to another – especially to a Dwarf that happened to be his Prince's closest friend.

"Well, we can help you in that," Aragorn finally got his voice back, a dry smile flitting across his face. "Let us be on our way: we can speak while riding, Guardian."

Rafél nodded, guiding his horse alongside with Aragorn's as they rode on again. Morchaint snorted, sprinting forward to run on the side of the group.

"Now, would you tell me what you know of Legolas," Rafél questioned, and Gimli sighed deeply, glancing at Rafél carefully.

"You will not like this," the Dwarf finally murmured.

* * *

Legolas couldn't help but to flinch back when the torch came nearer. He was running out of both time and ideas, but he was not willing to die just yet. But these Men seemed to be adamant of their decision, and it left Legolas with very few chances.

"You are making a huge mistake! Your Lord does not permit this!" he shouted in despair, but to deaf ears it seemed. The cheers from the crowd grew louder, drowning out his voice. Cursing bitterly under his breath, Legolas watched helplessly as the flame came to touch with the first branches, a faint smell of burning tree assaulting his nostrils.

Just as the Man prepared to drop the torch, a whistle of an arrow reached Legolas' ears and the torch flew from the Man's hand, an Elven arrow embedded both itself and the torch deeply to the pole, only an inch from Legolas' skin.

Snatching his hand back startled, the Man whirled around, the rage on his face soon vanishing and making way for fear. The other men also turned to look at the direction of their leader's gaze, a dead silence falling upon the clearing.

Legolas let out a relieved sigh, relaxing in his bonds. His eyes met Rafél's when the other Elf lowered his bow, but all attention was soon given to Aragorn as the King of Gondor raged forward, Roheryn shifting nervously under the furious motions on his back.

"Release the Elf!" Aragorn barked out, making even his own warriors flinch back. "On all my years on this earth I have seen nothing that could compare with this... this... stupidity!" the King exclaimed, his eyes shifting from a Man to another. "I am disappointed beyond words: my own people treat an ally and a race far more older than us like filthy Orcs! Such disgrace leaves me praying that Valar may forgive us someday."

For once, none of the Gondorians shouted anything of murderers. All listened in striken silence, looking as if they expected their King to draw his mighty sword and send them all to the world beyond life.

No Man stepped to stop Rafél as the Elf rode forward, dismounting when he reached Legolas. The Prince welcomed his guardian with a vain smile, his ears partially listening Aragorn as the Man continued to lecture his people, anger and frustration plain in his voice.

"What on Arda were you thinking?" Rafél began his own account, and Legolas couldn't suppress a sigh that escaped his lips.

"You think I did this on purpose?" the Prince asked, glancing at Rafél as the other drew a small knife from his belt and cut the ropes binding Legolas' hands.

"I cannot imagine as to how otherwise you got yourself into this situation," Rafél muttered, his tone telling that it was not only Legolas he was lecturing: the guardian himself had made a mistake while letting Legolas go riding alone. It was not a mistake he was about to repeat.

Legolas blinked, wondering how he had been able to forget the reason of his current situation. As if drawn by an unseen force, his eyes moved over the crowd, stopping when they reached a cloaked figure on the other side of the clearing. Time seemed to stop as Legolas' eyes met those of the other, though the stranger's eyes were hidden in the shadows of his hood.

"Legolas?" Rafél asked with a frown, his hand firmly upon Legolas' shoulder. Legolas shook his head, glancing swiftly at Rafél and then back to the crowd – only to find that the figure was gone. On his side, Rafél was getting nervous, and Legolas calmed the older Elf with a small pat.

"I am well. I just thought I... saw something."

Rafél's frown didn't lessen a slightest as his eyes also scanned the people milling around them, but he saw nothing alarming.

The moment of uneasy silence was broken when a short, stout form pushed itself through the crowd, muttered curses filling the air. "Ah, here you are, finally," Gimli exclaimed when he spotted Legolas. "Such a trouble you have caused us – again." Even if there was a remark in the Dwarf's words, the harshness in them was softened by the look in his eyes.

Legolas smiled, nodding at Gimli politely. "My forgiveness, master Dwarf, but I assure you that this is little of my doing. You see –"

"Please, you two," Rafél muttered, rolling his eyes. "We are all glad that you are well, Legolas, and that is it."

Gimli looked ready to argue but a sharp look from Rafél was enough to silence him. With a shrug, Gimli turned back to the Men with a strange expression. "Aragorn is really... savouring the moment."

Legolas also looked at the King, noticing that the Man was still speaking. Or shouting. Not that it made much difference: the Men of Gondor listened for the first time in long months, and Aragorn took his chances while it lasted. "I believe this is not the most pleasing task he was waiting for..."

"Oh trust me, my Prince Legolas, it is," another voice added and Faramir rode in.

Legolas smiled at the Steward, giving him a graceful bow. "I cannot truly believe that, but if you say so, I will concede."

Gimli snorted, muttering something about fair words with less meaning than an oath of an Orc. The other three gave the Dwarf a sceptical look, but Gimli merely waved his hand, looking up at Legolas again. "Well, if you are finished here, we could return at Aragorn's side. I am sure that laddie will calm down when he sees you are safe and sound."

Legolas raised one graceful eyebrow but didn't comment, looking instead back at Rafél who nodded. With a light movement, Legolas mounted Lúmen, waiting Rafél to do likewise, seating himself before Legolas. Faramir pulled Gimli to the back of his own horse, and together they rode back through the crowd, reaching Aragorn a few moments later.

Aragorn's words halted momentarily when he spotted Legolas next to him, his grey eyes loosing some of their stormy look. "I am _extremely_ glad that you are well. I apology –"

"Save your breath, my friend," Legolas said back, his voice low enough so it would not reach the Men around them. "I am well, and you have given your opinion to your Men. Now let us be on our way, if you are done here. I at least have little interest to stay here." Rafél let out a delicate snort at that comment, but he said nothing.

Aragorn looked at his companions around him and then reluctantly nodded. With a final, hard look at the villagers, the King said his final words. "I hope that no news of actions like this reach my ears from now on." With that, Aragorn turned his horse, riding out of the village with his company close behind. The other Men stood silent, not daring to move before they were sure that King Elessar was indeed gone.

Once they were outside the small town, Aragorn lessened his pace a slightest, waiting the others to catch up with him. He felt better now when he had finally been able to somehow get rid of his anger. There was still bitterness and hatred in him, yes, but now that Legolas was safe and with them, he felt as if the world was actually beginning to smile at him again.

A soft neigh welcomed the party and Legolas dismounted swiftly, meeting his black horse as the stallion came trotting to him. There were whispered words from the Prince, Morchaint moving his ears eagerly to whatever words. Then Legolas mounted, turning the horse so that he faced Gimli and Faramir. "Shall we ride together, master Dwarf?"

Gimli looked horrified, glaring at the black, great horse with such doubt that it would have rivaled even Sam's loathe towards the boats. "On that beast? I very much doubt it, master Elf. We would both end up to a river head first – if lucky."

"He is very tame..." Legolas muttered, though he looked very amused.

"Tame?" Gimli exclaimed. "Have you even looked at that animal you ride upon? Compared to him, Arod was as tame as a kitten."

A shadow darkened Legolas' face and he looked away, Morchaint shifting under him carefully, feeling his rider's distress. Gimli also halted his assault, realising that he actually hadn't heard yet what had befallen to the loyal Rohan horse. Most likely something because Legolas was now riding this new beast.

"Maybe we will ride together when you... learn to know Morchaint better?" Legolas turned back, asking with a tentative, careful voice.

Gimli merely muttered something, indicating clearly that he was going to stay where he was. Faramir glanced at Legolas, answering to the Elf's sudden, bright smile.

"Well, let us be on our way, then," Aragorn cleared his throat. "We have road before us to travel, and I am more than eager to speak with you, Legolas."

Giving out a soft sigh, Legolas guided his mount next to the King's, his mind sorting out things he would tell – and which he would not. He could not tell everything, he knew – not before he was sure of all the facts himself. Aragorn would be furious when he would finally hear he had not been told everything, but it could not be helped. The King of Gondor had currently enough trouble on his own.

Rafél and Faramir also guided their horses nearer, wishing to hear what would be said. With a quick look at Rafél, Legolas decided to begin at their depart from Rivendell: if he would be lucky, he would not have to speak of his own capture before reaching Minas Tirith...

_to be continued…_


	25. Chapter 23: Visions

**Chapter 23: Visions**

Legolas blinked, noticing yet again that he was awake. With a deep, tired sigh he rose to sit up, drawing a hand over his forehead. He had struggled to gain sleep all night, but it seemed that whatever uneasiness was taking over him was on a side of victory.

Looking at the far side of the room, Legolas listened Gimli's steady snoring in the room next to his. At least someone was able to sleep. _Maybe the sea-longing has finally returned in me_, he thought, seeing the thing as a positive one for the first time. But he knew it wasn't the sea that troubled him tonight. Something else kept him away from his dreams.

Getting up from the bed, Legolas drew a light cloak around himself, stepping out to the balcony of his room. The wind barely moved the air, the stillness of the world around him almost bothering. _Or maybe it is just me. Or the feel of darkness that hunted me few days ago: they say that a feel of Nazgûl is difficult to get rid of, and well I also know that myself._

Letting out another agonised breath, Legolas bowed his head, closing his eyes. He had not been forced to tell of his capture in details, but the moment would come soon: both Aragorn and Rafél were running out of patience, not to mention Gimli. Yet they seemed to respect Legolas' silent request to not to speak of the matter. How long that would last, Legolas didn't know.

Shuddering, Legolas opened his eyes again, drawing the cloak closer to his body. Something was wrong with him. He knew it. And he was getting more depressed by that fact as the time passed. Maybe it was the Balrog's wounds. Maybe it was the lingering presence of the enemy that had captured him. Or maybe it was something else.

Shaking his head in irritation, Legolas headed out, keeping a careful eye at his surroundings. He did not wish Rafél to catch him like this. At the moment, he wished to be alone with his thoughts.

Wandering through the silent streets, Legolas walked without destination. His mind circled the question in his head time after time, never getting nearer the answer. It bothered him, but he willed himself into patience: if he would rush, he would make a mistake.

Halting on a small yard, Legolas raised his head to look at the stars above. They shone down at him, but even their light seemed dim in his eyes. A sound of soldiers' boots against the stones rang clearly in the night, and Legolas hid himself into shadows of the tall buildings, waiting the Men to pass by him. When all was silent again Legolas stepped forward, looking after the warriors. How had the things come to this point? The alliance between Elves and Men was crumbling down quicker than the Firstborns were leaving these shores. It saddened Legolas, and admitting that he hadn't done much to hold his people back... it hurt. Yet it was not his place to stop the others from leaving if they wished to do so. He himself knew better than many what the call of the Sea felt like.

Lifting his eyes to the sky again, Legolas gazed to west, wondering if the stars would be different in Valinor. Or were there stars at all? Was there night?

A flash of light in the corner of his eye caught Legolas' attention, and the archer turned his head to the direction of the distraction. He saw nothing for a moment, and then again a light flared in the night. It was possibly too dim for mortal eyes to see, but Legolas' keen Elven eyes spotted the unnatural glow immediately. It went out again, only to light up a moment later.

Legolas frowned, cocking his head. It seemed as if a silent call filled his mind every time he saw the light, yet it did not fade immediately after the light went out. It was not words, more like feelings, beckoning him to follow it to its source. Legolas narrowed his eyes, trying to focus his mind into the strange call which grew stronger every time he saw the light. The light itself seemed to be coming from the tower of Ecthelion, highest tower of Minas Tirith, hidden somewhere to a room beyond the window.

Legolas looked around, seeing no-one nearby, and then looked up to the light again. He should not, probably, but this riddle needed to be solved, and his interest had been awoken. He would go and see through this mystery, and if it would prove out to be a threat, he would handle it before anybody else got hurt.

Crossing the yard, Legolas made a swift way to the bottom of the tower he was about to enter. Another quick look ensured that he was truly alone, and then he entered the door on the side of the tower. Long stairs led up before him, many corridors leading to the other parts of the citadel. Few torches lit the darkness, making the shadows dance upon the stonewalls.

Legolas listened for a while, and when he heard nothing alarming, he sprang up the stairs. His feet made no sound as he went forward, his every motion full of caution. Even if he couldn't see the light of the tower anymore, he still heard its call. This made him even more careful, the memories of his latest adventures still fresh in his mind.

After a few more turns Legolas was able to see the soft glow coming from some levels above and he slowed a little, his senses straining on their edges. The soft whispering on the back of his mind got more persistent, urging him on, and Legolas reluctantly obeyed, walking the last remaining steps.

On the top of the stairs a door stood ajar, the glow shining through the gap. Legolas halted again, doubt entering his mind. Ignoring the almost commanding whisper in his mind, Legolas stood on his place, waiting for a trap of some kind. Certainly this was one... But as nothing happened, and no sound could be heard, Legolas shrugged, stepping to the door. He pushed the door open and entered the room; his movement alerted as a cat's that is approaching a prey.

The glow was strong in the room, slowly fading in and out. The whispers got more powerful, yet there still were no words, only meaning. On the centre of the room stood a pillar of stone, some four feet high. On the top of it glowed a round object, and the sight of it made Legolas blink both in realisation and understanding.

Circling around the pillar almost suspiciously, Legolas cocked his head, staring at the perfectly round stone. Or actually, it was not a stone. Shadows seemed to be swirling beneath the surface; the light coming out of it lessening as the Elf drew near, almost beckoning. The whispers also got more alluring, caressing Legolas' mind and soothing his doubts.

_Palantír_, Legolas thought, his eyes never leaving the stone. _As much as I know about it, it should not be acting like this. I must speak of this with Aragorn tomorrow. Valar knows what might have happened if any other would have entered..._ Glancing to the side, Legolas spotted a sheet of silk on the floor. What had dropped it from its place covering the seeing-stone, he knew not, but Legolas was certain that he should cover the stone again before anything else would happen.

Kneeling down, Legolas retrieved the sheet, rising quickly back to his feet. The previous whispers were sounding annoyed now, realising that the Elf was not going to do what they wanted. Shaking his head softly to get rid of the voices haunting him, Legolas unfolded the garment, stepping reluctantly closer to the _palantír_. The shadows within the stone were whirling faster now, the whispers filling Legolas' mind. The voices that before had been wan and distant grew more powerful, like a roar of a waterfall.

Legolas took a step back, realising that something was wrong. _Palantír_ wasn't supposed to act like this. Maybe he should go and wake Aragorn at once...

"The Dark Lord is getting impatient. You should not make him wait any longer."

Legolas was so surprised by the voice coming from behind him that he had no time to react when firm hands caught a hold of his arms, pushing him bodily towards the pillar. Legolas tried to twist to the side, only then remembering that he had no weapon with him. Just his luck. It seemed that the fortune wasn't favouring him at the moment – nor had it done so in a near past.

To Legolas' surprise, his struggles were met with equal force, making the Prince soon realise that he wasn't going to pry himself free this way. With a cry of anguish, Legolas pushed back and down, trying to make his attacker lose balance. It seemed to work at first, the other's hold around Legolas' arms loosening. But then the attacker's left hand shot up, catching Legolas effectively around the throat, forcing the Elf stand up again.

Legolas gasped, his hands automatically rising up to divest himself from the hold that was swiftly making his head spin from a lack of air. The attacker's other hand secured itself around Legolas' weakly struggling form, and for a moment Legolas wondered how the other had been able to sneak on him. And who was he against? He hadn't recognised the voice, even if he was certain that he had heard it somewhere before.

The attacker's hold around Legolas' neck lessened slightly when the Elf stopped struggling, letting the Prince breathe. The fingers remained on their place, reminding Legolas what would happen if he began to fight again.

Taking a deep breath, Legolas blinked, trying to get his vision to work. He tried to draw away slightly, but his movement was met with immediate response from another. As the strong fingers pressed a little tighter against Legolas' neck, the Elf ceased all movement, his mind racing wildly. He would not overtake this opponent with mere strength, it seemed. The other's speed was also amazing, and again Legolas wondered whom he was fighting. Shifting his head to the side, Legolas tried to catch a sight of his attacker, and for once he wasn't hindered.

As soon as Legolas' eyes met the form of the one standing behind him, a rush of cold fear ran through his entire body. It felt as if the other's evil aura woke up into life all the sudden, making Legolas realise whom he was facing. The tenth rider. Again hidden in black cloak, but yet one could not forget the feeling of him.

Legolas struggled again, frantic to get loose. His movements were met with iron determination, and when the captive Elf felt a cold stone pressing against his front, he realised that his options were getting short. He had to get free. What his enemy had in mind, he did not know. How he had got this deep into Minas Tirith, Legolas couldn't guess either.

Turning his head forward again, Legolas gazed at the _palantír_, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at the stone. He thought he saw something in the middle of swirling mist, but he didn't dare to look more carefully. The whispers in his mind were getting overpowering, trying to drown his own thoughts. When Legolas' eyes darted back to the stone, wondering if it was indeed the voice of _palantír_ itself he was hearing, he felt as if he was watched more intently than he had ever been. A stare he could not see stripped him bare of all boundaries, exposing him entirely. The stone was watching. Or something in the stone...

Legolas closed his eyes, throwing his head aside. He tried to collect his thoughts that had begun to wander dangerously. He remembered the day when Pippin had watched to the seeing-stone of Orthanc, and he did not wish to do the same mistake. _But Sauron has fallen, so there should not be anything controlling the _palantír._ But didn't my attacker just tell me something about a Dark Lord? What is that supposed to mean? And what has that to do with me?_

The hand around Legolas' neck released its hold, wrapping itself around Legolas' continuously struggling form. Then the right hand shot out, seizing Legolas' right wrist with strength that could break bones. Legolas tried to jerk back, tried to free himself with desperate fear, but the hands holding him in place didn't give in, and finally Legolas cried out when his hand was settled upon the smooth surface of _palantír_.

"See what your Lord wishes to show you," the enemy whispered to Legolas' ear, strange undertone in his comment. Legolas had no time to ponder that, however, when his entire world changed.

Everything turned dark. The room itself seemed to be overran by cold, unnatural darkness, the light of _palantír_ turning slightly red, darker. Legolas' mind was invaded by shadows, even if he tried to close his eyes and mind to block away the images that the stone might show.

And then he saw.

_Fire raged everywhere, desperate shouts calling for help. Green grass turned to ashes, a clash of metal adding its own essence to the sound of cracking fire. There were people running around. The misty image got clearer, coloured slightly red as if stained by blood. A child cried somewhere. A faint voice called others to fight. An unmistakable sound of weapon sinking into flesh filled Legolas' ears, pained cries praying for help. Bodies lay on the ground, staining it dark with fresh blood. A doll lay abandoned on the side of the road, staring up with eyes that seemed to be afraid. A small, mound-like house collapsed, fire rising up to meet the dark sky. There was still people running, fear and confusion on their faces. "For Shire!" someone called, the voice sinking into the distance. _

_The image was consumed by fire, and suddenly all Legolas could see was the Eye of fire, staring at him with malice that burned the Elf's soul. A voice boomed, becoming all that existed beside the image of the Eye. Legolas tried to look aside, to see anything but the Eye staring at him. His eyes met the shadows beyond the Eye, and for a moment he was sure he saw another shape. Something much more darker than the darkness itself... The darkness shifted, and the fire surrounded Legolas, burning him into the bone and exposing his soul for the darkness that waited. And then the flames were gone, only cold dark remaining, and when it reached him, Legolas almost welcomed its cooling touch._

When Legolas collapsed limply against the form behind him, the one holding him up smiled in the shadows of his cloak. With an almost gentle move he arranged Legolas' unconscious form to lean against him. Reaching down, he retrieved the sheet that had fallen to the floor and covered the stone that was again silent and dark.

With a final glance at the stone, the cloaked figure raised Legolas into his arms, carrying the Prince out of the room, closing the door after they had exited. Walking down the stairs and through the yard, the figure didn't glance to the side at once. It seemed as if the world had stopped around him, no living creature witnessing his passing. With sure steps, the enemy reached the balcony of Legolas' room. Without hesitation he entered, resting Legolas gently to the bed. Looking down at the prone form, another smile crossed the enemy's face.

Turning around, the stranger drew his cloak aside slightly, drawing something from underneath. Placing the items carefully to the table next to the bed, the figure turned to look at Legolas once again. One hand reached down, caressing Legolas' cheek gently, tucking a strand of blond hair back behind a pointed ear. "It has began, dear Legolas. Soon."

Then he slipped out of the room, silently disappearing to the darkness of the night.

_to be continued…_


	26. Chapter 24: Uncertain Plans

**Chapter 24: Uncertain Plans**

The song of birds drew Legolas from his sleep. He had seen no dreams – which was unusual – and his head hurt slightly. Blinking, Legolas stared up to the roof of his room, only then realising that he had opened his eyes. Frowning, Legolas touched his head gingerly. Elves did not sleep with closed eyes unless they were very sick and in healing sleep. So why was he... Or maybe he had just awoken from his thoughts. Frowning even more deeply, Legolas tried to recall if he had indeed been in his thoughts. He couldn't remember, to be honest, and that shocked him even more. How could he not remember? Had it something to do with the strange feeling in his head?

Trying to remember the latest events, Legolas fears grew even more. His memories of yesterday were more than hazy, and it took him a long time to process them into some kind of understandable order. He had had troubles with sleeping, and he had gone out to the balcony. Later he had gone for a walk. After that... Legolas halted again, worry creeping to his face. _Then what? Surely I can remember if I try hard enough. Let's start again. I left my rooms, I went to a courtyard... yes, then I hid from some soldiers, not wishing to be interrupted. And then?_

Sighing, almost annoyed, Legolas turned to his side, anger beginning to bloom in his mind. He would remember. He would not get up before he would. Most likely Gimli would come to search for him before an hour would pass, for it was already late morning, but 'till that, he would not let anything else...

He froze, his eyes falling upon the table beside his bed. _My white knives. I am sure they were taken from me when I was caught by the Men, and I did not get them back when Aragorn came to free me. So what do they do here?_ A flash of images ran through Legolas' mind, and suddenly he remembered very clearly what had befallen to them. They had been taken by one of the riders – by the one who had actually caught up with him, and who was not a Nazgûl. But how were those weapons here, now?

Finally, Legolas remembered. The dark one had been here. Forced him to look at the _palantír_. What had happened after it, Legolas was not sure, but at least he was in his room. Sitting up, Legolas checked himself swiftly. He was untouched, and even the strange feeling on the back of his mind was passing away.

Running his eyes over his room, Legolas made sure that everything was as it was supposed to be. Nothing seemed to be touched, and all was in order. Shrugging, Legolas got up, swiftly finding fresh clothes. No reason to make the others worry of his absence.

But there was a reason to worry. What Legolas had seen in the _palantír_ made his skin crawl. He knew there was a great chance that what he had seen was not true, but if it was... _I must speak with Aragorn. He will make the decision._ Tying his tunic, Legolas slipped out of his room, making his way towards the room where he knew his friends would be having their breakfast.

Before he entered the dining room, Legolas halted, resting one hand on the door. _But how much I can tell to Aragorn? And what way? I definitely cannot tell everything I suspect, for most of it makes no sense even for myself. And I am sure he will ask questions that I wish not to answer. Aragorn is too wise of a Man to not notice when I am keeping information from him. But it is not necessary for him to know everything..._

With a calming breath, Legolas opened the door, stepping in soundlessly. Five heads rose up to meet the Prince, and Legolas bowed gracefully, faking a small smile. Rafél's face told him immediately that his show was in vain, and the glance between Aragorn and Gimli spoke volumes. Only Faramir and Imrahil didn't seem to notice anything out of ordinary.

"Good morning Legolas. I hope you slept well?" Aragorn asked, his voice careful.

"We thought about sending a servant to wake you," Gimli muttered, munching his food.

"I slept well, thank you," Legolas said quietly, deciding that there was no reason to reveal too much. Rafél rose an eyebrow at him, but one look from Legolas told the guardian that this was not the place to throw any kind of remarks.

After being sure that Rafél would refrain from asking questions that would reveal his entire game, Legolas sat down, eyeing the food with little interest. He wasn't hungry a slightest, but he would eat something to escape Gimli's attention. It seemed sometimes that the Dwarf's affection to food rivalled even Hobbits.

_Speaking of Hobbits_, Legolas thought wryly. _It seems that all I do or think, it reminds me of my "vision". Maybe I should speak my thoughts out now and save myself from further trouble._

"You are not hungry?" came a deep voice from beside Legolas, and the Elf sighed, turning his blue eyes to Gimli.

"Nay, to be honest, but I am sure that does not matter: you are eating enough for both of us, master Dwarf."

Gimli gave out a short laugh, not seeing anything impolite in the Elf's statement. "When you eat as much as you do, it is not a hard task to eat your share in addition to my own."

"Gimli..." Aragorn almost moaned from across the table, throwing a desperate glance at Legolas.

Legolas smiled, realising that the Dwarf had most likely spoken about him most of the time this morning. Not very surprising, that.

"Are you truly well, my friend? Considering the adventures of your previous days –"

"I am well, Aragorn, but there is something I would wish to speak with you about," Legolas said, throwing a quick look at Rafél. _Did he notice I was gone?_ Legolas wondered, alarmed. Rafél would not settle down with a vague explanation if he thought Legolas was keeping things from him. Rafél's gaze indeed signalled him that the older Elf was aware that something was out of place.

"You wish to speak of it now?" Aragorn offered, seeing the growing tension between the two Sindarin Elves.

"Well, there is no reason to delay my news..." Legolas muttered, his eyes glued to Rafél's.

"What is wrong?" Rafél finally asked, his expression suddenly worried.

"I saw... a dream," Legolas lied, telling himself it was almost the truth anyway.

"A dream?" Aragorn pressed, leaning forward.

"A vision," Legolas continued, avoiding looking at Rafél. He felt the other's gaze upon him, reading from between the lines what he was truly trying to say. Once again, Legolas cursed Rafél for knowing him so well. "I thought it would be wise to tell you about it. I have no prove that it is even true, but..." Legolas stopped, realising how stupid he sounded even in his own ears.

"Mithrandir always told us to seek answers from our dreams. They behold many secrets," Faramir put in, encouraging Legolas to continue.

"In this dream," Legolas started to speak again, his voice smooth as he ran through his memories again, "I saw a village burn. Later, I realised it was the Shire. A fight raged there, flames burning everything on their reach. I really didn't see the enemies, but the dream was hazy." Legolas looked up, dreading the answers he would get – or worse, questions.

"You are sure of this?" Aragorn asked, his voice as steady as he could make it.

"Yes, as sure as I can be," Legolas answered. "Of course, it is only a dream of mine, and I am not a great one among my people. My dreams possibly mean nothing."

"But do we dare to risk it?" To everyone's surprise, it was Imrahil speaking.

"Nay, we should not," Aragorn said beneath his breath, and then spoke again, his grey eyes circling over all who were seated on the table. "Many of the Free peoples of Middle-earth have been attacked by now, and there is certain signs of enemy's movements. After the attack to Eryn Lasgalen, the enemy seemed to vanish. It is not a long way to Shire from the Misty Mountains."

"A part of the enemy hid itself to the area of Misty Mountains. Of all, we cannot be sure. But why would the enemy attack Hobbits?" Legolas asked, challenging Aragorn.

"It was a Hobbit that destroyed the Ring of power – and Sauron," Aragorn smiled, gaining an answering one from the Elf.

"So you wish to go for the aid of Hobbits? Even if we do not know that they are in danger. It is also possible that the attack has already taken place – or will happen during our journey," Faramir stated.

"Wasn't it you who told us to trust into our dreams?" Aragorn returned, his voice full of mirth.

"Aye, but I merely pointed out the small possibilities," Faramir explained. "But if you ask me, I would go to help those noble people. They deserve it, after all they have done to us. Even if it is a false alarm."

"So, shall we go to pack already?" Gimli spoke up impatiently, making the others laugh.

"Dear Gimli, let us not be hasty. There are many things to settle before I can depart –" Aragorn began.

"You cannot go again, my Lord. With all respect, your people –" Imrahil began, falling silent as soon as Aragorn's gaze found him.

"It is my right to go with my Men," Aragorn began. "In here, there is no danger. And I, most of all, am in debt to that small folk."

There were no further words of that, and after a moment of silence, Gimli cleared his throat, rising from his place. "By your leave, my Lords, I will go and tell my kinsmen that we are leaving in a near future." After that, Gimli bowed low and exited from the room.

"Near future..." Faramir murmured, shaking his head. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Knowing Aragorn, inside few days," Legolas answered, leaning back in his chair. For now, it seemed that he would be left in peace.

"Legolas, if you remember anything else of that dream – anything that would aid us – please tell me immediately," Aragorn stated, then rose from his place. "If you excuse me…" the King said, and then left the room, Faramir and Imrahil following him quickly.

Legolas and Rafél sat in silence for a moment, but finally the guardian turned to look at Legolas. "This dream… it was so much different from all the others that you thought it to be a vision of future?"

"I do not know…" Legolas whispered, staring at the hands folded in his lap. "But Aragorn seemed to take it at heart immediately. And I have a feeling that our enemy isn't done just yet."

Rafél didn't answer, but his brown eyes darkened. _ By the Valar what is wrong with you Legolas? Such dreams like this are not like you. And not telling the truth to your friends… And most of all, who are we fighting against? When you know your enemy, you can fight against them, but when you do not…_ Sighing, Rafél leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. They could not lose. Not this war.

_to be continued…_


	27. Chapter 25: Swift Travelling

**Chapter 25: Swift Travelling**

* * *

**A few days later,**  
**Rohan**

_Sometimes I wonder how Aragorn does it. When all people seem to disagree him, he finds a way to turn their minds to his own profit._ Legolas smiled, watching as the Men of Gondor passing him by. Morchaint snorted under him and Legolas ran a soothing hand along the dark horse's neck. Gimli also shifted behind him, muttering something about unruly beast. Legolas chuckled, turning to look at the Dwarf sitting behind him on horseback. "You have something to say, master Dwarf?"

"If you are ready to continue on, I would prefer you to do so. As soon as I get down from this beast, the better."

"Ah, but you are indeed riding the beast now. And it isn't so horrible as you thought, is it? And it doesn't matter how I ride: the Men cannot go on any faster than they are now if they wish to get their horses alive through Rohan."

"Hmph," Gimli snorted, shifting his axe in its belt. "I heard from Faramir that we are not going to stop in Edoras."

"Yes, so I heard as well. Aragorn doesn't wish to linger on the way. But worry not, we will stop in Helm's Deep to drop your people there."

Gimli visibly reacted to the word "drop", glancing up at the Elf accusingly. "Are you planning something?"

Legolas tried to look both surprised and hurt. "Me? Well, I must admit that our journey has been with little excitement..."

"Right, right," Gimli put in, looking at the Men passing by. "I still wonder if this is a smart move to do. After all, we all have dreams at times."

Legolas sighed, playing with Morchaint's mane. "I know, but this dream is different. I think that Aragorn also knows this, for he reacted immediately."

"And the dream seemingly keeps repeating itself," Gimli muttered.

Legolas looked back, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, do you think me stupid, Elf?" Gimli exclaimed. "You have been seeing nightmares since we left Minas Tirith, and it is not normal for you. Nor is that that your eyes are closed. Are you well? You can tell me if something is wrong, you know."

Legolas snorted, turning away from the Dwarf. Of course Gimli had noticed. For now, Legolas had been somehow able to hide his continuing nightmares from Aragorn. Rafél had kept his silence, but would not do so for long. That Gimli brought up the matter first wasn't anyhow surprising.

"I am fine. They are just dreams."

"Then you haven't yet recovered from your earlier wounds. Dreams do not make you close your eyes, do they?"

"And what if they do?" Legolas shot back, annoyed. At the moment, the idea of throwing Gimli down from the horse felt very appealing.

"You are not going to speak with me, are you?" Gimli stated at last, shaking his head.

Legolas didn't answer, but instead he guided Morchaint forward, joining to the group of Men again. As much as he loved Gimli, he could not speak of his current situation. It was far too personal. Maybe later, when this all was over. When he had the answers for himself.

* * *

They indeed circled Edoras, making their way swiftly as possible to Helm's Deep where they would fill their supplies and Gimli's kinsmen would leave them. When they finally arrived to the Deep, both the Men and horses of Gondor were worn out. Aragorn promised them a day's rest, no more.

Making his way to his own current room in the citadel, Legolas tried to suppress a yawn. He hadn't slept since his small debate with Gimli, making sure that no more nightmares would be noticed by the others. Now he felt tired as ever, his body screaming for rest. _Maybe Gimli was right. I am still recovering, and my body knows that. Maybe I should listen to it more carefully._

"Legolas," came a soft call, and the Prince turned around at the familiar voice. Rafél halted beside him, his features revealing none of his intentions.

_Bad thing_, Legolas decided, preparing himself.

"You should rest," the guardian stated smoothly, stepping aside to let a group of Men pass them by.

"I am about to do that. I took care of Morchaint, and the next time I am required is in a meeting before we depart tomorrow."

Rafél didn't say anything, but nodded slowly, starting to walk to the direction of Legolas' room. "We must speak," he finally continued, making Legolas sigh. "I suppose I do not have to tell you of what."

"Well, there are a lot of choices..." Legolas tried.

"Do not act like a child, for you are not one," Rafél said sternly without looking at Legolas. After all their years together, it sometimes seemed that even words were not necessary between them, even less the looks.

"But there are many things you may desire to speak of with me," Legolas replied.

Rafél suppressed a sigh, stopping when he reached the door of Legolas' room. Swiftly, the older Elf opened the door and closed it when they both had entered. "Now, this dream of yours... I would like to hear the truth."

Legolas froze for a moment, standing with his back turned at his guardian, but then resumed his undressing. He would keep him mind, this time. He was an adult, like Rafél had pointed out, and he would not be forced to tell the other nothing.

"Legolas," Rafél said, his voice patient but pressing. He knew the game Legolas was playing, but he also knew he would eventually win it. He always did, ever since Legolas had been a child.

"It is no business of yours," Legolas finally said, anger in his voice.

"How can I protect you if I do not know the threat?" Rafél stated.

"I do not need your protection. I am sure you have better things to do than follow my every step and see that nothing happens to me. And it has began to look like that you are getting rusty: how many times during the last few months you have actually done your job and protected me?" As soon as Legolas was finished, he regretted his words. But it was said, and a small part of him was relieved that it was done. For it was the truth. At least, when you looked it from one point of the view.

When there was no answer from Rafél, Legolas turned around, all his anger and weariness falling away in a second. Rafél stood with his head bowed, his shoulders slumped with defeat. His silence told enough, and through their bond, Legolas felt the other's guilt. Self-hatred. Helplessness.

His defiance falling, Legolas stepped forward, winding his hands around Rafél's shoulders. "I am so sorry," he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. "I am just so tired and afraid. I feel like I am not in control of what happens around me, and it angers me."

Rafél finally raised his head, his eyes searching Legolas'. "I know, I feel it. And it worries me. You are not acting like you usually are, and all the time I fell less and less able to defend you..."

"It is my own doing that you are not able to follow – to protect," Legolas confessed, not sure of what time he was speaking of. "But I will try harder to give you a chance. Just please... stay with me. Alone, I fell weaker. I know I should not, but at the moment, I feel so alone." Legolas stepped back slightly, noticing that he spoke like a frightened Elfling. He had not spoken to Rafél like this for thousands of years, but it felt good, somehow.

"I am not going anywhere," Rafél whispered, kissing Legolas' forehead tenderly. "Now, go to sleep. You need to rest."

Legolas nodded, glancing at the bed on the other side of the room. He knew what waited there: more dreams. Suddenly, he didn't feel like sleeping anymore.

"I will watch your sleep," Rafél offered suddenly, pushing Legolas towards the bed. Legolas glanced at the older Elf, and then nodded, smiling vainly. Rafél knew of his dreams, anyway. Crawling to the bed, Legolas waited for Rafél to join him, and with a soft sigh, Legolas sank into Rafél's arms, falling into sleep after some minutes.

Rafél watched at his protege's peaceful face, his own features suddenly twisted with worry. He knew something was wrong. But Legolas was not ready to speak of it, and so he would wait. _But how long it is safe for me to wait before things go ill?_ Settling down more comfortably, Rafél watched Legolas, noticing yet again that the other's eyes were closed in a most un-Elvish fashion. And Rafél knew it was not a healing sleep Legolas was in. Something was seriously wrong.

* * *

Aragorn marched out of the main doors of Helm's Deep, inhaling the fresh morning air. It was a perfect day for travelling. Though he would not enjoy of the day's beauty, he was sure. Other things much more gloomy were on the surface of his mind.

"My King Elessar," came an honouring call and Irolas stepped in front of the King, bowing. "I was sent to inform you that King Éomer has arrived. He will reach the citadel inside few minutes."

"Éomer?" Aragorn asked, surprised. "What is he doing here?"

"I am sure we will hear soon enough, my liege," came another voice and Faramir joined them, bowing at Aragorn.

"True," Aragorn decided, making his way to the battlement so he could see the approaching company. Indeed, Éomer's flag flapped in the front of the arriving riders, the King's own horse easily found from among the other horses.

"What is all this commotion about?" came out a deep voice, and Aragorn turned to welcome Gimli.

"Good morning to you as well, Gimli," the King of Men said with a smile. "Éomer is arriving."

"Oh," Gimli stated. "Did you send him a word?"

"Nay, I did not. But, we shall hear of his intentions soon enough: I think he has just reached the citadel."

Indeed, the voices of Men rose into air, the Men of Rohan welcoming their King with even more passion than they had welcomed Elessar yesterday. Not that it offended Aragorn: he was happy that the things were as they were.

The sound of horses approaching made Aragorn turn, and he saw Éomer and his men gathering on a bottom of the stairs. Approaching his fellow king, Aragorn ran through the possibilities as to why Éomer had arrived. He got his answer soon enough.

"My Lord Elessar," Éomer bowed. "I heard you travelled past Edoras few days ago. I was most surprised that you did not pay us a visit."

"I am afraid that me and my men were in a hurry," Aragorn explained, clasping hands with Éomer. "Otherwise, I would have stayed in your capital city. But as it was, I tried not to delay. But come, why have you ridden all this way? Certainly you did not come for this information alone."

"Ah, my reason is purely selfish: I indeed wished to meet you and hear why you are in such a hurry."

"Then let me tell you in private. I will depart ere the midday has come, so there is no much time for debate."

Éomer nodded, and after giving is horse to one of the stable-boys, he followed Aragorn back to citadel.

* * *

When Legolas reached the courtyard, it was milling with people, the cacophony of voices ringing in his ears. Rafél also grimaced, shaking his head. "It seems that we are departing with more Men than we arrived," the elder Sinda stated.

"You think so?" Legolas asked, stepping forward again. Morchaint would not like such a commotion around, he was sure.

"Knowing Éomer..." Rafél began, but didn't finish. Legolas grinned, walking to the sea of Men. After a small search Legolas indeed found his horse, standing in a peaceful corner. The great horse flickered his ears, neighing as a welcome. Lumén stood beside the black one, also welcoming his rider.

"It will be such an effort to find the stunted one from this group," Legolas joked, making Rafél snort.

"You will find his easily by voice, or by the smell of rusted chain," the other Elf said back, somewhat more serious than Legolas before.

Legolas shook his head in dismay. "Will you never learn to trust in him?"

"I already have," Rafél corrected, mounting his horse. "At least since the attack to Eryn Lasgalen. He would have died for you."

Legolas fell silent, mounting Morchaint slowly. He knew that Rafél trusted in Gimli, at least enough to leave them two alone. Maybe there would be a day when they all could...

"Master Elf, I hope you haven't forgot me already," came a voice from below, and Legolas looked down, extending his hand to help Gimli mount behind him.

"I am glad you made it, master Dwarf. I thought for a moment that you were again so amazed by the beauty of your caves that you could not leave them so soon. Or then you were just too annoyed to ride upon this beast again."

"Ah, that is good, you are learning, whelp. Now, let us find Aragorn," Gimli chuckled, tapping Legolas to the back.

"Whelp..!" Legolas exclaimed, but Rafél silenced him quickly, guiding Lumén forward. If there would be a sparring match between the two, they would not make out of the Deep today.

It took them a little more time to spot Aragorn, and even more to reach him. Usually, as soon as the Men noticed that Elves were approaching they stepped aside, but today there was too much excitement in the air. After several minutes the trio reached the King of Gondor, earning an amused glance from the Man.

"Well, here you are at last. We wondered where you were," Éomer called out, looking at the Elves respectfully. After all these years, he still wasn't quite at ease with this immortal race.

Aragorn was going to say something when another voice interrupted him. "Lord Gimli, I would ask you something, if I am allowed."

Gimli looked down from his place, a smile appearing to his face. "Ah, young Fundal, how can I help you?"

The youth looked ashamed, glancing quickly at Adír who stood behind him. After an encouraging nod from elder, the youth continued. "I would like to come with you."

Gimli looked at the other Dwarf surprised, then shifted his gaze to Adír. When the other Dwarf nodded again, Gimli frowned, nodding. "You may come, but do not slow us down. Search yourself riders, and we may be on our way."

Fundal let out a joyous shout, and Adír drew the youth away, knowing that they would depart at any moment. They soon found riders for themselves, yet their mounting was a far more awkward than Gimli's.

Gimli smiled, shaking his head. "I wonder if that is dangerous..." he murmured. "The youth wishing to travel with us again."

"At least he is in good company," Legolas answered with an equal smile.

"I suppose we are ready, then. Let us be on our way." Aragorn raised his hand, not wishing to dare the peace between two friends, and immediately several commands rose in the air, marking that the riders were going to depart. The road opened immediately, and Aragorn rode out, his companions close behind.

_to be continued…_


	28. Chapter 26 Receiving Company

)...( = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 26: Receiving Company**

* * *

**Gap of Rohan**

_Fire licked the bark of the trees, the screams of the forest filling his mind. The heat was unbearable, burning his skin. He tried to run away, to find a shelter, but the burning figures of the trees reached out for him, blocking his path. They spoke of betrayal, asking why he had betrayed them. "I did not!" he wailed, tears in his eyes. The trees cried out, their words disappearing to the cracking of fire. They were all silent now. All dead. Burning corpses. He had betrayed them, or so they believed in their death. _

_He ran trough the gates that led to the caves beyond, desperate to flee from the flames. The stone-corridors were quiet, their coldness almost as painful as the raging fire outside. He walked forward, his steps uncertain. He was afraid. There was no light here, only cold and darkness. _

_He came to the celebration hall, looking around to find someone. He stumbled, something grabbing his leg. Looking down, he saw a mutilated body hanging onto him, empty black eyes staring up at him. He knew him, but couldn't bring himself to remember the name. The body jerked back, falling to the ground limply. Dead. _

_He looked around, a gasp dying to his lips. The floor was covered with blood, corpses lying everywhere. He recognised all the faces, even as twisted and broken they were. All dead. All gone. The flames crawled across the floor, following him from the outside. They crept up the walls, circling the bodies of his kin, burning them to aches. He bowed his head, not wishing to see. He couldn't look. _

_ "You betrayed them," the flames whispered, a dark laughter filling the darkness. _

_The place changed, suddenly, but the flames remained. There was grass here, the sky visible from the trees. But the sky was not blue: the clouds covering it were deep grey, smoke rising from everywhere to join to the gathering wall of darkness. And from above the clouds shone a red light, lining them with a bloody glow. _

_He looked around, seeing everything burn around him. The shouts around him seemed distant, and he couldn't tell where they came from. He looked down to the ground, seeing a small child lying there. Dead. So innocent even in her never-ending sleep. He kneeled down, his fingers moving away a strand of sand-coloured, curly hair. A small hand came up, the dead eyes opening. Small fingers curled around his wrist, the eyes gazing at him desperately. "Help me," the faint, small voice pleaded. Blood stained her lips and she fell back, eyes open and empty. _

_He scrambled back, standing up. The flames surged to the small body, covering it in an instant. He shouted, trying to drive the fire away. But the flames turned, circling around him. But he did not feel the heat. He was freezing, the coldness spreading from within him, pushing the flames away. _

_Suddenly the fire absorbed everything around him, and a huge, lidless, burning eye appeared, staring at him with such malice that no earthly being could bear. He screamed, falling to the ground, his mind falling apart before the other…_

Legolas blinked, wondering for a moment where he was. Then he felt eyes upon him, both Aragorn and Gimli staring at him from a distance. Legolas gave his friends a quick, tentative smile – which ended up convincing no one. Sighing, Legolas lowered his gaze, staring at the tree-roots which mingled into the ground where he sat.

")You know, that most likely doesn't help the situation any way,(" a voice said from above, and Legolas glanced up, noticing Rafél sitting up among the branched of his tree. ")They are far too smart to fall into something as simple as that,(" the other continued, keeping his voice low.

")Perhaps I should practice more, then,(" Legolas replied, irritated. He stood up, striding away to find Morchaint. Rafél looked after him, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts. But in his eyes, a worry bloomed brighter than before.

"Has he spoken of his dreams?" Aragorn asked, stopping on the root of the tree, his grey eyes shifting momentarily into Legolas' distancing direction.

"Nay, he refused. But my patience is getting short, and his condition getting worse," Rafél confessed.

"But he is not willing to speak of this?" Aragorn guessed.

"He is not," Rafél sighed, jumping down from his place. He landed beside Aragorn without a sound, his brown eyes following Legolas as the Prince walked through the clearing where they had camped for the hottest hours of the day.

"Not that it would be surprising..." Aragorn smiled. "Knowing you Elves, and his family especially."

Rafél didn't bother to smile, knowing only too well what the Man was speaking about. Thranduil's family wasn't the easiest one to negotiate with. He had realised that often enough while he had served Oropher and his line.

On the other side of the clearing, Legolas finally reached his steed. "Such a trouble they are making of all this …" Legolas whispered, his fingers caressing the dark, long hair. Morchaint snorted silently, turning his great head to push it against Legolas. "Why cannot they simply leave me alone?" Legolas asked, his eyes distant.

"Perhaps because friends do not tend to do so," a gruff voice answered, making Legolas glance around.

"Gimli," he muttered, turning away again. He had no desire at all to speak with the Dwarf at the moment.

"Don't try, Elf," Gimli told his friend firmly. "I will not stop bothering you before you have told me exactly what is going on. It is not that I could help you to drive your nightmares away, but yet I think it is not normal for an Elf to see dreams like this. Continually so, if I might add."

"And how do you know that?" Legolas spat.

"Because Rafél is worried. It is a fairly good sign that something is wrong with you."

"Rafél is always worried when it concerns to me. It his duty to protect me, so he is supposed to worry even before there actually _is_ something worth worrying about."

"You are doing that again," Gimli murmured, glaring at the Elf. "Can't you understand! You stupid, witless Elf... We only wish to help you, not to taunt you. Is it so hard for you to just once forsake your pride and let someone in?"

Legolas didn't reply to that, his hands smoothing the side of Morchaint's neck. _Do you think it is my pride that is causing this, Gimli? But for once, it is not my pride that is keeping me from seeking aid. I wish I could tell you that, but it is not the time yet. Not just yet..._ "If that was all you had to say, master Dwarf, you may leave me alone."

Gimli let out a low growl, and was just about to go and shake some sense into the Elf, but Fundal interrupted him, springing in between them. "Master Gimli, Lord Legolas!" the youth gasped. "Adír sent me to inform you that there is a party closing up with us. They are riding from the north." The youth turned to Legolas, his eyes shining. "He said that they are no Men, and told me to come and tell you."

Legolas looked at the direction where the young Dwarf had come. Then he nodded, mounting Morchaint. "Let's see what this is about, then. Come, Morchaint," he spurred the animal forward. Morchaint neighed, turning around and galloping away.

"Not Men?" Gimli asked.

"Yes," Fundal said absently, starting to the direction which the Elf had taken.

"Then what are they if not Men? How can Adír know?" Gimli pressed, running after the youth.

"He said he has seen Legolas and his folk often enough to know the difference between Men and the only other race riding with horses," Fundal laughed.

"Elves," Gimli sighed, finally understanding. "Was it so hard to say straight?"

"I am sure that Lord Legolas understood," Fundal pointed, racing forward. Gimli merely shrugged, following the youth little less enthusiastically.

Ahead of the Dwarves, Legolas rode forward, reaching Adír soon enough. It never stopped amazing him how poorly the Dwarves were able to disguise themselves and their presence out in the natural world. But Gimli had said exactly the same thing about Legolas when they had once visited Aglarond. It seemed that they all had their specialities.

Legolas pulled Morchaint into a halt when he spotted Adír, standing with two Men of Gondor. Dismounting, Legolas walked to the others. He gazed at the same direction with the Men and the Dwarf, frowning. "What are you looking at?" he asked, making the trio jump in surprise.

The Men looked at the Elf sheepishly, Adír glaring at the other being with an anger much similar to Gimli's when Legolas scared the other Dwarf out of his wits with such a sudden appearance. "We look at nothing," Adír said finally, glancing at the scene before them. "We were looking at a group of advancing riders, but they disappeared from our sight some time ago."

"How many?" Legolas asked absently, his senses scanning the forest in the meanwhile.

"Around ten, Lord," one of the Men said. "They were still quite far away when we lost them from our sight."

"I see…" Legolas uttered, his eyes sliding shut. His mind took a path through the trees, seeking these strangers. Suddenly a familiar mind met his, and Legolas drew in a sharp breath, his eyes flying wide open. He shot around, staring accusingly at the trees behind him. "You..."

A choir of fair voices broke the silence, a laughter carrying out from among the branches. Then, out of nowhere, a silver-haired Elf stepped into the mortals' sight, smiling down at them. "Forgive us, Legolas. We did not realise you were this near until you appeared."

"And you should have noticed us a long while ago!" a new voice added, and another Elf appeared. He pushed a strand of hair out of his face, smiling widely at Legolas. "You are getting careless, young Prince."

"Watch it, Asthaldo. Do not make him lose his temper," the silver-haired said, dropping from the tree. He crossed the distance, embracing Legolas warmly. "It is good to see you are well."

Legolas was tempted to tell the other that things weren't as well as they seemed, but he restrained himself, pulling back slightly. "You are far from Rivendell. But yet I am glad to see you as well, Thalión."

A soft rustle of leaves indicated that something else moved in the trees, and right after that nine more Elves dropped down to the ground, Asthaldo still remaining on his place.

The Men and one Dwarf looked ready to bolt, both awe and fear upon their faces. Legolas glanced at the Elves, mere surprise upon his face. "Well, I could have expected you Cousins and even the Twins of Rivendell, but this..."

"We cut through Lórien Elves on our way," Dínnor explained, striding forward to draw Legolas into a tight embrace.

"We had nothing better to do than to join them," Ithika laughed, pointing at himself and his sister Khai.

"And Glorfindel couldn't have looked after all the five that came with him," Haldir reasoned. "So I and my brothers lent him our aid."

Elrohir gave Haldir a sceptical look. "I am sure that I and my brother are quite capable of taking care of ourselves. And you should not question the Cousins' ability to do so, either."

"But you all together? It is a dangerous mix," Orophin laughed.

Khai shook her head, walking to Legolas. "It has been a very long time, Aiwë," she greeted, earning a hug from Legolas.

"Indeed," Legolas replied.

"So, you are well? Any of us couldn't be sure, for you left quite suddenly - of which we shall talk later," Dínnor promised darkly, his voice low enough for only nearest Elves to hear. "And there had been some very alarming news from the east," he finished.

"I am fine," Legolas said smoothly.

"Are we supposed to actually believe that?" Dínnor pressed, sounding slightly taken aback. "You have never been a great liar, so do not start now. What is wrong?"

"Something of which we shall speak later," Legolas murmured unhappily.

Dínnor was about to argue, but Thalión's hand upon his arm stopped him. The cousins exchanged glances, something passing between them, and finally Dínnor shrugged, looking back at Legolas. "You owe him one," he stated, sounding somewhat angry.

A snap of wood and a sound of heavy foots reached the group. A moment later, Fundal crushed through the underbrush, Gimli just behind him. The Dwarves stopped on their tracks, staring at the group of Elves.

"Is there a some kind of gathering I am not aware of?" Gimli muttered. "I thought two Elves would have been enough…"

"Master Gimli, it is well to see you as well," Asthaldo greeted, dropping beside Gimli. The Dwarf indeed favoured him with a startled shout, spinning around faster than no-one could have expected from a sturdy Dwarf.

"You little…" the Dwarf fumed, his fists clenching at his sides.

Asthaldo glanced away from the Dwarf, his expression changing, and then he looked back at Gimli, bowing elegantly. "My apologies, master Dwarf. This will not happen again," the Elf uttered, and then strode to stand beside his cousins.

Gimli looked after the Elf, astonished. Then he caught Legolas' eyes, and understood. It seemed that Legolas still protected his Dwarven companions from his own kin. It was a habit that the other had grown far too used to.

"So many Elves," a small voice gasped beside Gimli, and all eyes turned to Fundal who stood staring at the miraculous beings before him. "And they do not all look the same, even if Múran said so!"

The Elves smiled, turning at the youth. To most of them, it was the first time they saw a young Dwarf.

"I suppose we haven't met him, have we?" Dínnor said rather kindly.

"Nay, you have not," Legolas answered. "This is Fundal, from the Kingdom Under Mountain."

"From Erebor? He is truly far from home," Elladan mused.

"And where are you from?" Fundal asked, examining the Elves just as much as they did him.

"I, my brother, and Glorfindel are from Rivendell, from beyond the Misty Mountains," Elrohir told. "These three cousins here are from Eryn Lasgalen."

"And the rest of us are from Lórien," Ithika finished.

"Oh," Fundal uttered, glancing at the Cousins. "So Legolas is your Prince?"

"Yes, he is," Thalión said before Legolas could interfere. The Prince gave him a hard look, but Thalión stood his ground. Finally Legolas pulled back, submitting to his fate. "So, shall we move forward? I would not like to face Rafél's anger if we keep you hidden too long," the Sinda continued, his eyes shining at Legolas.

Legolas nodded, whistling to Morchaint. "Our camp is a mile away from here."

"So, what is the meaning of your current trip? And who are with you? Forest speaks of a great group of Men," Elladan questioned as the Elves called for their own mounts that had been left behind.

"I am sure that you will get all your questions answered by Aragorn when we reach him," Legolas answered, mounting Morchaint.

"Estel is here?" Elrohir exclaimed. "Ah, that is good. It will do him good to get some fresh air at times."

"Elrohir, please," the other twin moaned. "I am sure that the reason why they are on the move is not a light one. Let us be on our way: I at least wish to hear what this all commotion is about."

The group mounted their horses, and with a swift pace they rode back to the camp. The Men looked up at the Elves, their eyes wide with amazement. Fear was also visible, hanging in the air like an invisible blanket, but for the Elves it was rather easy to be sensed.

"I never thought that the Men were afraid of us," Glorfindel spoke, his voice low. "I knew that there was respect, but this is a thing entirely different."

"They are afraid for your wrath, I suppose. They can see for miles that you are all warriors," Legolas noted.

"Aye, but why such a fear, then?" Asthaldo asked impatiently.

"Because it was the Men of Gondor that tried to burn your Prince alive," Gimli barked from his place behind Legolas.

"Gimli!" Legolas hissed warningly.

"Burn you alive?" Dínnor asked, horrified. Even ever-calm Haldir was staring at Legolas and Gimli, alarm upon his handsome face.

"A minor misunderstanding," Legolas explained, troubled.

"Do not lie, 'Lass," Asthaldo warned.

"Men are still blaming Elves for Queen Arwen's death. But we have come to believe that there may be a greater power provoking their actions and fuelling their hatred," Gimli explained.

"Burn you alive?" Dínnor repeated again. "But where was Rafél?"

Legolas' face turned into a slight shade of red, his eyes full of warning. "I went to ride without him. He was not with me when I was caught. But he saved me in time."

"How does it seem to me that he doesn't wish to speak of the matter?" Elrohir snickered.

"We are here," Legolas said quickly, stopping his horse. The others also halted, looking around the camp. "You may find Aragorn from his tent, I suppose. He is planning with Faramir and Éomer for what may be the swiftest road."

"Swiftest road to where?" Asthaldo questioned.

"To the Shire," a new voice added, a tall Elf walked towards them.

"Rafél," Dínnor saluted. "We have heard that you have been careless with our dear Legolas here."

Legolas muttered something beneath his breath, dismounted, and disappeared to the crowd without another word.

"What is wrong with him?" Elrohir wondered. "He is acting in a most bizarre way."

Rafél and Gimli exchanged glances, the Dwarf shaking his head. Rafél looked back at the Elves, his face not revealing a single thought. "King Elessar is indeed in his tent, if some of you wish to go and meet him. The others may come with me, and I will tell you what I know about our situation."

"Which would be practically everything," Asthaldo grinned. "You were always able to gather such information that the rest of were only dreaming about."

The Elves laughed, all knowing that Rafél's tactics of getting information seldom failed.

"Well, let's go, you two," Glorfindel said, glancing at Elladan and Elrohir. Leading the twins towards the King's tent, they left the rest of the Elves behind. To them, their first priority was to meet with Aragorn. They could catch up with the Elven-information later. They passed the guards outside the tent without a word, entering the shelter quickly.

The men around a table looked up, Aragorn's face lightning up in joy. "My brothers, Glorfindel. What brings you here?"

"Utter boredom?" Elrohir offered, clasping Aragorn's hand. "We are very curious, for we were prepared to ride all the way to Gondor: what are you doing here?"

"Rafél mentioned something of the Shire," Elladan added.

Aragorn's face darkened immediately. "It is a long story, though with little to tell."

"From the beginning, then. What happened after you left Rivendell?" Glorfindel asked, and Aragorn began his account.

**

* * *

**

"So, what is the matter with Legolas?" Asthaldo asked as the remaining Elves sat down to a shadowy place under long trees.

"He hasn't been himself for a while, and a lot has happened after we left Rivendell," Rafél sighed, knowing that he was treading a dangerous path. Legolas would never forgive him if he would reveal too much. Not that Rafél knew enough even for his own liking.

"We have barely had any news," Ithika announced, leaning forward. "Last time I saw Legolas, it was when we saved him from Fangorn. I got a small account from the Cousins after we joined them some weeks ago, but beside that, I and Khai are pretty much out of everything."

"Like we all in East Lórien," Rúmil added.

"You said you are heading for the Shire. Is there something wrong, for you have a great number of soldiers here," Haldir noted, looking at the resting people around them.

"One thing at a time," Dínnor said, his eyes glued at Rafél. "So, speak. All the way from the night when you ran away from Rivendell."

"Actually it was Legolas who left. I merely went with him," Rafél explained.

"Like that would make any differences," Asthaldo muttered, but fell silent after a hard look he gained from the others.

"Our journey went without trouble until we reached the Gap. We lost Arod there, but Legolas soon befriended Morchaint."

"A horse with a mighty spirit he seems to be," Thalión praised.

"Indeed," Rafél agreed. "We reached Ithilien, and soon realised that the Men were indeed as hostile as we had heard. We met Aragorn and Gimli briefly, and the night after that, Legolas went riding alone – and was caught."

"How terribly careless of you," Asthaldo threw in.

"We rescued him," Rafél continued sternly. "After Aragorn gave a speech to his people that day, they have calmed visibly," he finished, falling silent.

"And?" Asthaldo pressed, but Dínnor silenced his cousin, frowning.

"Something happened," Dínnor stated softly.

Rafél nodded. "He claims it was a dream: a vision. It keeps repeating itself, in form or another, for he has not been able to sleep since that night."

"But you suspect something else happened?" Haldir guessed.

"What kind of a 'dream' was it?" Khai added, her face serious.

"The true nature of his dream is hidden from us, for Legolas refuses to speak of it. But it has something to do with a destruction of the Shire, and so we are going to see if something is indeed wrong. It may be waste of time, but none of us risks to do otherwise. And what I think that happened to him that night..." Rafél shook his head. "I do not dare to guess. But it is more than a dream, for he would have told me in any other case."

Dínnor nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe we should talk to him," he said to his cousins.

"Or leave him alone," Thalión countered. "He is seemingly depressed, and I do not think that our interfering would improve the situation much."

"But, then again, how can we know?" Asthaldo pointed out.

"We cannot," Thalión sighed.

They sat in silence again, all deep in thought. Things didn't seem to be getting any better in a near future.

**

* * *

**

Legolas sat alone on a far edge of their camp. They had decided to stay in the same location over the night, gathering their strength. Tomorrow, they would race long and hard, and extra rest would be much appreciated. But Legolas had no desire to sleep. He felt tired, yes, but he feared for his dreams. And when the nightmares took over, they exhausted him even more. _Maybe walking among the woods, under a sky full of stars, would help_, he thought. It had helped him before, when he was younger. But he did not have the same innocence anymore.

An owl let out its lonely cry somewhere in the darkness, the steady beat of its wings taking it further away from the Elf. The forest fell silent, and in the darkness it seemed to Legolas that even the trees were quiet. _Or is it me who cannot hear them? Has it something to do with my dreams? But it can also be the lingering effect of the Balrog._ Legolas cursed softly, leaning his chin against his knees. _So much has happened to me that I cannot tell one influence from another at the moment. But what is the meaning of all this? What is this evil that I feel? Or is it again only my own shadow that I fear..._

Shifting, Legolas closed his eyes, his mind drifting deeper to search from within. But it seemed that he could not see inside, anymore. He tried again, pushing the shadows away like hindering cobwebs. _There were no shadows like this in my mind before_, Legolas thought bitterly. _And as the time passes, it seems that the shadows grow, instead of fading._ His mental eyes searched the shadows, trying to identify them. As soon as his mind touched them, a light flared before his eyes, a hot pain surging through his head. An image of a burning eye lingering long after as Legolas lay on the ground, panting and covered with cold sweat.

It took a long time before he truly saw the dark forest, his eyes blinking desperately to draw away the horrible picture. Pain was ebbing away inside his head, but the feeling lingered long after. "Curse him…" Legolas muttered, letting himself fall to the ground. After he had looked into the _palantír_, he had tried to explore the growing shadows of his mind. Every time, the result was the same: something dark in him kept him away. More he tried, more brutal the darkness got. And he was slowly beginning to believe that his worst fear was indeed coming true… "Curse the Dark Lord and all his creations…" he muttered, blinking back the sudden tears.

"It is not kind to speak so of dead ones, though with Sauron we might do an exception," a fair voice cut through the night air, making Legolas sit up. Dínnor stepped forward, his dun eyes hard. "So, is it Sauron?"

"I have no idea –"

"Do not lie to me!" Dínnor said with such power that Legolas flinched away. "I am well aware that something is wrong," the Elf hissed, his eyes narrowing. "Is it Him?"

"How could it be? He is dead," Legolas answered.

"Ah, so he is," Dínnor said, circling around Legolas. "But yet what is this darkness that I sense in you? Thalión also feels it, but he is too afraid to say it aloud. And Rafél… He hasn't probably even noticed, being so close to you all the time. Or then he merely ignores it."

"Whatever you are speaking about, it is not serious," Legolas muttered, standing up.

"Oh? There should be no darkness in you, and yet there is. And it is not the same darkness that I felt after your meeting with the Balrog. This is greater, more plain."

"There is nothing!" Legolas shouted almost desperately.

"Is that what you tell to yourself, every time that the sun comes down and everything around you turns just as dark as you yourself?"

Legolas froze, his eyes trying and failing to hide his true feelings. Fear. Such absolute fear that it made Dínnor halt.

The older Sinda stepped forward, drawing Legolas to his chest, his strong arms holding the younger Elf close. "I am so sorry, Legolas. I didn't mean to shout at you. I just..."

"Lost your temper," Legolas finished, closing his eyes for a moment. "But you are right. I lie to myself. Or I did. I cannot do that anymore."

Dínnor let out a groan, pulling Legolas an arm's distance away from him. "Is it Him?"

"I do not know," Legolas whispered, his voice shivering. "And I cannot speak of it before I have the answers for myself."

Dínnor nodded, his eyes sad. "As bad as it is, I understand. But remember: if you wish to speak, I am always there, like are my cousins. And it would do you both good if you would speak with Rafél. He will worry himself to death like this."

"I will do that," Legolas sighed.

"Good," Dínnor smiled. "Let's go back to the others now."

Together they dove back into the dark forest, the trees closing up to hide their path as they passed.

**

* * *

**

After a one day's proper rest, the group rode forward, now reinforced with a group of Elven warriors. They rode through the Gap of Rohan, heading towards the north. Crossing Enedwaith, they reached the Sireenway. Following that road, they travelled with a greater speed than before.

At sunset, many weeks after they had left Minas Tirith behind, Elladan halted his horse on a top of a small hill, gazing north-westward. A soft snort from another horse informed the twin that his brother and Aragorn had reached him, and a moment later a pair of horses halted to his side.

"We are getting near," Elrohir said. "I know the land before us."

"So do I," Aragorn uttered softly, gazing at the setting sun. "Faramir suggested that we camp for the night, and continue at dawn."

"Sounds good, and I am sure that our horses will appreciate a small rest," Elrohir replied, patting his steed's neck affectionately.

Elladan was oblivious to the discussion, his eyes narrowing as he looked along the path before them. There was something on the horizon… "Is that smoke raising to the sky?" he asked, pointing with his hand.

The other two looked at the same direction, Elrohir frowning. "I suppose it is. Where does it come from?"

Aragorn failed in the attempt to see, even the Half-elves' eyes rivalling his. "Let us go to others and ask them. I cannot be sure but that could be…"

"The Shire," Elladan finished for him as he encouraged his hose forward. They galloped down the hill, pulling to a swift halt as they noticed Legolas standing on the edge of the road.

"What is it? He just stopped here, and has been like that since then," Gimli motioned towards the Elf. "Or is it just some Elven custom…"

Aragorn looked at Legolas, his fears rising immediately: the other stared at the direction of the smoke, his sharp eyes no doubt seeing the alarming sign. His face was pale, his fair eyes filled with fear. He did nothing nor said anything, but the very air around him told of something evil that was taking place.

The entire group had halted by then, the Men talking nervously, throwing quick glances at their King. The Elves were much calmer, many of the sharp eyes turned to the direction of raising smoke.

"If I count the distance and the direction of the wind…" Ithika began.

"It could be," Khai added.

"Definitely the Shire," Elrohir muttered. "Let's get some speed into this group, shall we?"

"Agreed," his elder twin replied, dread filling them both. Aragorn nodded his affirmation, and without further instructions, Faramir commanded the men forward, Éomer taking care of his own riders. Not for the first time, Aragorn wished that they would not be late, and that the Valar would favour them at last.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**)Sindarin(: - English:**  
_Aiwë_ - Little bird (Legolas' nickname, used by Khai)


	29. Chapter 27: Fights and Surprises

)…( = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 27: Fights and Surprises**

* * *

**Shire**

Pippin enjoyed the last moments of the day, laying in a comfortable chair in his garden, smoking his pipe. He had already devoured all the cookies he had brought from the house, but he felt absolutely too lazy to move a bit – even if it would have meant getting more biscuits. The sun was warming his feet nicely, the pipe-weed being excellent this year… Everything was just perfect.

Merry was visiting Sam and his family at the moment, but would come to Pippin's for the night. Not that they would stay in-doors all evening: they had planned going into Green Dragon later. With a wide yawn, Pippin slumped even deeper into his chair, content for a moment. He took a deep breath from his pipe, trying to make the kind of circles that Gandalf had used to. After a few times of failure he shrugged, deciding that such things were meant for wizards: and he had learned to stay out of wizards' business a long time ago.

A sound of running feet woke Pippin from his thoughts and he sat up, wondering what all that commotion was about. A chorus of frightened voices filled the air, high voices of children pulling Pippin to his feet. He walked to the gate of his yard, looking over it at a group of parents who were trying to get their offspring under control.

"But we saw them, mama! You must believe us!" a little girl shouted.

"Ugly faces and mean voices," a boy added, seemingly frightened.

"Now, now, younglings! I am sure that your imagination is playing, or older children are playing some kind of game again," one of the mothers told to the children.

"But mama! They were real!" the girl shouted, something in her voice making Pippin alert.

"Excuse me," Pippin called, opening the gate and stepping onto the road. "Would you children mind to tell me exactly what you saw?"

"Oh, master Took, it is not necessary," one of the adults disagreed – knowing exactly _what_ kind of reputation this exact Took had – but the children were already milling around Pippin.

"They were taller than we! And they walked funnily. And they didn't like the sun, either."

"They had some kind of armour on, and they were really noisy as they moved."

"And smelly!"

"And their skin was all black and leathery and slimy."

"Wait, wait! All of you," Pippin exclaimed. "May I ask, and you answer?" The children nodded eagerly, gazing up at Pippin with wide eyes. "Good. Now, did these monsters have yellow eyes? Different from ours."

"Yes," one of the boys shouted, "evil eyes."

"And how was their speech?" Pippin asked, even if he already guessed the answer.

"They used a lot of bad words," one of the smallest children said, wrinkling her nose. "It was really rough, and noisy."

"And they had all kind of weapons with them!" one of the boys added almost excited. "But it was entirely different from your sword, Mr. Peregrin."

"Was it now…" Pippin said, his mind elsewhere. _Only one creature that I have faced or heard of could suit into those describing: an Orc. But it cannot be. Not here in Shire. It must be some children, playing the tales I and Merry have told them about._ "Well, thank you. You have all been very helpful," Pippin smiled at the children.

"Are you going to drive those monsters away with your shiny sword?" the little girl asked, her eyes full of trust. "They were very scary. They said they would eat us alive, and… they said a lot of evil things before we ran away."

"What did they say?" Pippin asked, suddenly curious.

"That they would rip our inners out and devour us whole," one of the boys said, but no longer smiling. Their mothers also looked terrified, eyeing Pippin angrily.

Pippin shivered despite himself, nodding. "Thank you, again," he said hastily, turning away. Then he stopped, feeling very stupid. Slowly, he turned back to the children. "Where did you see the monsters?" he asked with a smile.

"On the side of that small river, on the edge of the fields," a boy said.

"Thank you," Pippin uttered and then rushed into his house. "Orcs in Shire," he muttered, pulling open a chest beside his bed. "No other creature would say such a thing. Then again, if it is only children playing, we may teach them some manners…" he muttered. "Now where is that sword of mine," he swore. "Ah, there!" he chided, pulling his sword out carefully. He checked the blade, and then rushed out of the house, running along the road.

He reached Sam's house – Bag End, actually – after a while that seemed to last forever, barely stopping on the door to knock at it. Rosie opened the door, smiling at Pippin. "Is Merry still here?" Pippin gasped out, still trying to catch his breathe.

"Oh, yes. Please, come in, mister Peregrin" Rosie said, opening the door further.

"Thank you," Pippin said and slipped in, missing the glance that Rosie gave him as he passed her – sword in his armpit. "Merry!" Pippin shouted when he reached the living-room. "We have to go."

"Go?" Merry asked, puzzled. "But we decided to go to the Green Dragon after –"

"No! Now!" Pippin shouted frustrated, ignoring the look Sam was giving him. Pippin reached Merry, taking the other's arm. "I will explain as soon as we have left this house. Come!"

"Why does mister Pippin have a sword with him?" Sam's children asked as one, staring at the blade adoringly. Sam gave both Pippin and Merry a hard, meaningful look while Rosie tried to make an explanation for her children.

"All right, all right, I am coming," Merry grumbled unhappily. "Sam, Rosie, it was a nice day. Bye children! It seems that I must go now, so –" Pippin dragged Merry out before he was able to finish, the younger Hobbit closing the door firmly behind them.

"Pippin!" Merry shouted, yanking his hand back. "What is wrong with you?"

"We have to check something, now," Pippin said, hurrying along.

"Check what?" Merry wailed.

"Do you have your sword with you?" Pippin asked as he ran ahead, forcing Merry to run along.

"No. Why?"

"Well, it might come in need," Pippin said, not bothering to explain.

They ran along, leaving the road when the last houses had been passed. Pippin followed a small river, gazing at the dark forest before them. The sun would set soon, and Pippin didn't wish to be in that forest when the night fell - Orcs or not.

"Pippin…" Merry's desperate moan made Pippin turn back, finger on his lips.

"Not now, Merry. We must listen. I don't want to run into them without knowing where they are," Pippin explained absently, creeping carefully forward.

"Who are 'they'?" Merry asked, his voice tired.

"Orcs."

Marry stopped dead on his tracks, staring at Pippin. And then he began to laugh. "Oh gods, Pippin! What is this stupidity? You dragged me all the way here, making me think something was seriously wrong."

"Well, isn't a group of Orcs a serious thing?" Pippin asked, flustered.

"There is no Orcs here," Merry said, trying to hold his laughter. "We are in the Shire!" he raised his hands in the air, pointing at the village behind them. "Look, I know you have a wild imagination at times, but this…"

"A group of children saw them!" Pippin argued.

"Oh, so this gets even better…" Merry muttered. "Pippin, let's go," he turned around, waving his hand.

"Merry, it won't hurt if we look around, does it?" Pippin begged.

"No more foolishness today," Merry said. "You have been smoking too much."

Pippin's shoulders slumped, his eyes dragging along the line of the forest. "But if there is Orcs out there…"

"There is not," Merry said, pressing each syllable. "Come on now."

Pippin looked at Merry, and then to the direction the forest again. Something on the back of his mind told him to follow his instincts and check the forest, but Merry was also right… Sighing, Pippin turned to follow his cousin.

At that very moment a series of loud curses came from the forest, and it was a sound that no Hobbit of any age could have made.

Both Merry and Pippin halted, slowly turning around. Their sharp eyes caught a movement in the underbrush, an unmistakable speech reaching their ears.

"Orcs," Merry whispered, his voice shaking.

"Yep," Pippin replied, just as unevenly. His hands clutched to the sheath of his sword, but right then he understood that alone he could not stand against even a small group of Orcs.

Dark shapes emerged from the forest, eyeing the sky suspiciously, last rays of the sun glittering on sharp swords and armour. The Orcs also halted, noticing the Hobbits standing some dozen yards away from them. They all stood frozen for a moment, staring at each other. Clouds drifted over the sun, shadowing the world from its light. A roar of rough, inhuman voices and a banging of metal against one another rose from the distance, the Orcs visible to the Hobbits joining their own voices to the noise.

"Um, Pippin?" Merry mumbled.

"Yes, Merry?" Pippin responded more than a little shakily.

"I think we are in a big trouble," Merry swallowed, fear making him shake like an autumn leaf. There was no mistake that in the shadows of the forest, and possibly in other sheltered places too, there was waiting a lot more Orcs than the few they saw now.

"Do you hear that?" Pippin spoke up suddenly. Merry cocked his head, listening intently. And then he also heard it.

"Pippin… Run!" Merry shouted, pulling his cousin with him as he raced towards the village. Just after them, a wave of Orcs rushed from the forest, their screams filling the darkening evening.

**

* * *

**

Gimli released his axe from its belt, his other hand still secured around Legolas' waist. The weight of his weapon felt comforting, and he looked around, his face grim. All he was able to see at the moment was the Elves riding around them – and the dark smoke rising to the sky. He was almost able to smell it by now. _Poor Hobbits_, he thought remorsefully. _They are no warriors, and it is beginning to look like that the battle is indeed raging on. All we can do is to hope that there will be something left for us to save._

Legolas shifted in front of Gimli, whispering encouragingly to Morchaint. The horse neighed, speeding up even more. As Gimli looked around again, he noticed that the Elves were getting ahead of the Men. _Maybe it is on purpose. Elven horses seem to be worth of their reputation, after all._ From that thought his mind turned into another thing, his eyes shifting onto his friend before him. _So Legolas' vision was true, after all our doubting. I truly hope that he is up for this fight, because it will be twice the trouble if he cannot fight: he will not leave the battle without a struggle._ The Dwarf's eyes shifted onto Rafél, riding almost in touch with them. It took a moment for Gimli to hear that Legolas was actually speaking with his guardian. _In a middle of a maddening gallop? Elves! Do they have a sense of danger at all…_

Gimli strained his hearing, trying to catch the words, but failed. The wind was whistling in his ears and the sound of horses drowned away the rest of the conversation. A moment later Legolas nodded, Rafél dropping back slightly.

"I will be looking after him," Rafél said to Gimli, a small smile passing over his fair and ageless features.

"Then there is a two of us," Gimli shouted back gruffly.

Rafél was silent for a moment, but then nodded. His hand clasped Legolas' momentarily before he pulled away slightly, giving their horses some space to run. Morchaint neighed, Lumén following the other's example. The horses matched each other's pace, running forward side by side.

"Shall we wait for the Men?" Elrohir shouted from the back of the group, making the others turn to look at the Men.

"Nay, they will reach us soon enough when we join to the battle," Glorfindel answered. He looked at his companions, earning approving nods from everyone.

"I am sure that Aragorn will speak of this, later," Elladan laughed.

"He just wishes to ride with us, and who could blame him for that?" Elrohir mused.

"Focus, you two," Dínnor uttered. "You will end up killed one day because of your joking."

"We are not in a battle yet," Elrohir pointed, but fell silent after that.

Dínnor smiled, then guided his own horse forward, his cousins mimicking his actions. They reached Legolas, easing back to his pace, folding around him. "Stay close," Dínnor shouted to Legolas, flashing him a brief smile.

"In your dreams," Legolas laughed. "I am able to take care of myself."

"So cocky, isn't he?" Asthaldo grinned, his hand loosening his short swords in their scabbards.

"Just look after yourselves," Thalión reminded his cousins, releasing his bow. "Legolas has at least two guardians at the moment, so we can concentrate on our own survival."

Legolas smiled, shifting as he slid his bow free. They were already close enough to see easily what was going on in the Hobbit-village before them. Orcs were swarming everywhere, the houses set on fire. Remembering his dreams, Legolas shuddered, seeing his nightmares turn to real.

"Prepare!" Haldir shouted, all of them drawing their bows free and setting arrows to the strings.

"Do you think they are the same who attacked Woodland Realm?" Asthaldo asked, his voice strangely low.

"I do not know, but we can always ask," Dínnor answered, anger in his voice. He knew fear when he heard it in his youngest cousin's voice, and he knew that most of them were beginning to remember the destruction of Woodland Realm. ")Forsake your fear!(" he shouted, encouraging his kinsmen. ")Face your enemy with no mercy, defend your brothers, and have faith in your Gods!("

The other Elves answered with various different shouts, and once again Gimli wondered how little he knew of this race. You really didn't see beneath the layer of coolness and serenity before you truly befriended an Elf, and even years after you were able to learn that there were still some hidden sides in Elven nature.

On the edge of the Hobbit's village, some of the Orcs were already realising that something was going on. Some of the creatures halted from their task, raising their heads up to see what was happening. And as soon as the first ones realised that it was an Elven party attacking, calls rang out, alarming the rest of the villain-army. A moment later, Elven arrows rose to the sky to meet the gathering Orcs, earning more outraged cries from the twisted beings. Gimli smiled grimly, taking a better hold of his axe, and let out his own war-cry as they crushed into the enemy's lines.

Far behind the Elves, Aragorn cursed aloud, trying to hurry Roheryn into greater speed. He would make sure that he would speak with his Elven companions long and thoroughly after this battle: he would not take it lightly that he and his men were left behind like this. Éomer, Faramir, and Imrahil were ordering the Men into battle-positions, leaving Aragorn alone with his thoughts, and at the same time giving him an opportunity to examine how the battle went on.

It was not the first time that Aragorn witnessed the Elves fighting Orcs – far from it – but as he looked at the battle raging before him, he couldn't but admire the systematic and organised attack of the group before them. It was likely that some of those Elves had fought together before, but the way they matched each other's skills together with so little time of arranging… Aragorn found himself totally venerating the fighting-skills of the Firstborns.

After another moment of observing the battle the force of Men also reached the side of the village, and with excited shouts, the Men joined in. Aragorn drew Andúril, raising it high as he came to the reach of the first Orcs, bringing down his weapons with enough force to slice two Orcs headless at once. From the corner of his eye he saw Faramir right next to him, and he wondered if Legolas felt similar when Rafél was beside him.

"Nice to see you too, Estel!" Elrohir quipped, taking time from his own struggle to throw Aragorn a teasing smile. "What took you so long?"

Aragorn practically made a face at the other, feeling like a youth again, hunting Orcs with his brothers. It had been years since he had felt like this. But the feel of joy was soon forgotten as Aragorn took a look around, seeing the burning grass and dead ones lying on the ground. It was a harsh fall back to reality, a fresh wave of anger blooming in him: innocent Hobbits that wanted nothing but live in peace were being butchered all the while they fought here. With a cry of outrage, Aragorn led his men forward, driving the Orcs back.

Gimli glanced at Aragorn as the Man shouted his challenge for the enemy. "Should we follow him?" he asked, swinging his axe on the right as Legolas attacked to the left.

The Elf turned around, his eyes swiftly finding Aragorn from the midst of the battle. "Let's keep him in our sight," he decided, guiding Morchaint forward. The horse neighed loudly, trampling an unfortunate Orc to the ground. Gimli muttered something incoherent, his hold tightening around Legolas' waist as he fought to keep his balance on the top of the bouncing horse. It was not an easy task to beat down Orcs with a heavy axe and keep yourself on a top of a great horse. But Gimli had yet to admit that his task was fairly easy: he at least was able to fight. On their places behind Men of Gondor, Adír and Fundal were probably only sitting and trying to stay on horseback. _I at least have an experience of this. Maybe I should ask Legolas to give my kinsmen a couple of Elven riders next time. It would make their life a lot easier, after all._

An Orc-arrow whirled through the air, hitting Gimli's shoulder and driving him from his thoughts. The impact drove the Dwarf forward, forcing some of the air out of his lungs. He tried to balance himself, wincing pf the feel of the arrow as it pressed against his shoulder when he sat back up. Legolas had already halted Morchaint, his blue eyes full of concern. "It hit only the armour," Gimli told his friend reassuringly. "This is why we Dwarves wear them," he added, smirking widely.

Legolas rolled his eyes, but laughed as Asthaldo raced by them, yanking the arrow free from Gimli's back as he passed, making the Dwarf yelp in surprise. "Well, let's just say you were lucky it was an arrow of the Orcs," the Elf said with a smile.

"And do the Elves have a reason to shoot me?" Gimli inquired softly, ending his question into a curse as he tried to yank his axe free from a fresh corpse. Just then Morchaint shifted to the side, freeing Gimli's blade – and almost dropping the Dwarf to the ground.

"Easy," Legolas murmured, steadying Gimli's dangerously tottering form.

"Could we consider fighting like normal people: on a solid ground?" Gimli asked, throwing the Elf a meaningful glance.

Legolas looked around in the darkening night, trying to evaluate the situation. "It is pretty crowded down there," he noted.

"So it is up here!" Gimli announced, letting out an annoyed shout as one Orc forced Morchaint jump to the side. "Just let me down…"

"I will absolutely not! You would get yourself killed in no time!" Legolas argued, trying to turn so he could face the Dwarf even partly. "You must be patient and –" Legolas never finished as an excited shout came from beside them, a lucky Orc reaching up to yank the Elf down from horseback. Legolas let out a surprised yelp, dropping his other knife as he hit the ground. Gimli fell flat onto Morchaint's back, trying not to fall.

"Got you, Elven-bastard," the Orc snarled, raising its filthy sword to run it through the Elf on his feet. Legolas struggled against the hand buried in the front of his tunic, trying to twist so he would reach his other knife. But before he or the Orc made another move, a blade drove through the Orc's forehead from behind, stopping the evil creature. Legolas looked up with relieved eyes, meeting his guardian's rather displaced gaze.

"Focus, you two, and stop your bantering! It will get you both killed!" Rafél hissed, making Legolas flinch back.

"Yes," the Prince replied meekly, reaching out for his fallen knife and got up.

"Down!" Gimli shouted, making Legolas drop back to the ground while a swinging axe cut the air where his head had just been. An Orc behind Legolas, however, did not have time to dodge, and with a gurgling sound it collapsed to the ground. Legolas looked at the fallen enemy, and then up at his guardians, sending them a thankful smile. "Get back here," Gimli said, helping Legolas back to his original place. "Now, let's hunt some Orcs, shall we?" he shouted, and with a shared look, Rafél and Legolas resumed the battle.

At some distance away, Thalión put away his bow and drew his sword, signalling to Dínnor beside him that he would cover himself now. Dínnor nodded, quickly checking Asthaldo's whereabouts before joining his blade with Thalión's. The youngest Cousin appeared just then, driving back a hindering group of Orcs with his horse. "All seems to be in control elsewhere," Asthaldo informed, clinging his blade against Thalión's sword as a sign of greeting.

"Let's hope the things will stay that way to the end of this battle," Thalión replied, his weapon sending a spray of black blood into the air as it slew an Orc nearest to him.

"How was Legolas?" Dínnor questioned, moving his horse around to meet a new wall of enemies.

"Fine, as far as I can tell," Asthaldo answered after a moment, fighting off his own share of the Orcs. "Rafél and Gimli are with him, so there should be no reason for us to worry."

Soon after their small debate the Cousins were forced to concentrate upon their current battle, enemies pushing at them continually. But as the night wore on and the moon sailed over the sky, the Orcs began to slowly draw back. The defenders gained an upper hand in the battle, pushing the villains further from the Hobbit-buildings. And when the first light of the day broke from the east, the Orcs retreated.

Aragorn's men gathered together, eyeing their enemies distrustfully as they faded into the darkness of a nearby forest. Rohirrim joined around their own Lord, Éomer sending out some of his riders. "They will see how massive this attack truly was," the King of Rohan explained as he halted beside Aragorn. "I am afraid that we partook only a small piece of the battle."

Aragorn nodded silently, gratefulness shining in his eyes. "Thank you. News is more than welcome." Then the dark Man fell silent again, steady grey eyes turning into the direction of the destroyed village. "So many innocent lives…" he whispered, shaking his head. "We should have hurried along."

"And yet we would have had too few men to protect entire Shire," Éomer pointed out softly. "Shall we move further and see what we can do to aid the Halflings?"

"There are many who will need our help before this is over," Aragorn murmured quietly, turning around to find Faramir and Irolas so he could give further commands to his men.

Elven eyes followed the Orcs for long, making sure they were indeed leaving. Halting his spurting, restless horse, Elladan watched after the distancing creatures. His twin halted beside him, and together they looked in silence as the Orcs disappeared from their sight.

"They could have won the battle," an irritated voice spoke out, making the Elves turn at Asthaldo. "Why leave when they had the keys of victory?"

"The day came too swiftly. We all know that Orcs loathe being under the light of the Sun," Haldir replied, frowning slightly.

"They could have ended us since we arrived to the battlefield," Dínnor observed. "This is merely another plan of the enemy. But they shall return to complete their task," he said with a certain voice.

"Then we must be ready," Aragorn called out. "Let us move to the village and see how much destruction our enemy truly got done."

"I hear voices," Legolas uttered suddenly, halting Morchaint beside Roheryn. "There are people coming to us." The blue eyes turned at the direction of the still-burning village, a clear memory of his previous dream making him shudder. _I truly foresaw this, so many times. But yet it couldn't prepare me for the truth…_

"Las?" an impatient voice called, Gimli's worried hand resting upon Legolas' shoulder.

"What?" the Elf asked, turning to look at the Dwarf.

"Could I get to the ground now?" Gimli replied with a strange look.

"Of course, my friend," Legolas said with a voice of an apology. "I was in my thoughts."

"You tend to be so, far too often on these days," Gimli muttered as he was lowered to the soil. Legolas didn't say anything, but his eyes soon left Gimli's, making the Dwarf sigh. "You still don't give in? Such a pride as yours will lead you to nowhere but to more harm…" he muttered, stretching his aching limbs. Adír and Fundal were quick to join him, the youth looking overly excited about their victory.

At that moment a group of Hobbits came into view, the small beings halting at safe distance from the bloodied, battle-worn Men. But two came forward, almost breaking into a run as they came closer. Legolas glanced at the arriving couple, his eyes widening in surprise. Aragorn followed his line of vision, understanding only a moment later what his friend saw. "Aragorn!" came a high voice, another one of the arriving Hobbits waving at them. The two halted before the Men, dazing up at the grim faces. Then they walked forward, finally seeing the King of Men again.

Relief bloomed in Aragorn's eyes, the Man swiftly dismounting. "Merry, Pippin!" he exclaimed, walking to the waiting Hobbits.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you," Merry spoke up, even remembering to bow at Aragorn.

"No wonder those filthy creatures ran off so suddenly," Pippin smiled, leaning on his sword wearily.

"I am afraid we have a little to do with that," came a gruff voice, and Gimli stepped to the Hobbits, gaining joyous shouts from them. "The Elves here suspected them escaping the day rather than us."

"But they ran off anyway," Pippin snorted. Then he looked up again, his eyes widening as he looked around. "I did not realize you had this many Elves with you!" the Hobbit gasped. "And other Dwarves, too," he added, noticing Gimli's companions.

"Adír, at the service of you and your family," Adír said with a deep bow. "And this is Fundal, also in your service." Fundal bowed as well, earning one from Pippin and Merry.

"I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, and this is my cousin, Peregrin Took," Merry introduced them, not solely to the Dwarves of course, but also to the Elves who were looking at them with various expressions. After the compliments were changed there was a hushed silence, eyes observing the people on all sides. Most of the Men had seen Hobbits – this couple especially – before, but it did little to satisfy their interest. To some Elves this was a closest look at the Hobbits they had ever got – not speaking of the fact that these were two of the Nine Walkers. To Fundal, all this was new and the youth wasn't able to hide his curiosity much. As for Hobbits, they were amazed by the Elves, by a young Dwarf, and generally at the entire army's existence.

"I suppose we should not just stand here," Pippin said after a moment, gazing back at their village. A mournful look came over his features, his shoulders slumping. "There is a lot to do before life will be back to normal…" he whispered, shaking his head.

Aragorn lowered a comforting hand at Pippin's shoulder, giving the other a reassuring smile. "I and my companions will help you as much as we can. Éomer set out riders to gather up information about the condition of entire Shire. And in the meanwhile, we will take care of the wounded here. What say you?"

"We have no way of thanking you," Merry said as his cousin stayed silent. "There are many in need of a healer," he continued, biting his lip. "Some are already beyond help," he whispered. Then he turned at Éomer, greeting the other with a warm, small smile. "I thank you, also, King Éomer."

"I am no King to you," Éomer said to the Hobbit, dismounting as well. "I only wish we would have came sooner. This attack has brought much devastation to your kin."

"But you are here now," Pippin spoke out finally. "Let us go deeper to the village, then. There is a lot for us to do."

**

* * *

**

As his eyes searched the ruined village around them, Aragorn couldn't but admire this small folk yet again. Even if unused to wars and battles, Hobbits were now moving around in concentrated silence, tending their wounded and setting up shelters. There was fear and confusion on their faces, yes – their silence spoke of that as well – but their minds were set. _This small folk will survive anything. Not because they are simple or narrow-minded people, but because they are strong. Their hearts know such intrepidity that all Men should envy_, Aragorn thought with a small smile.

"Strider?" came a hesitant call, ending up into soft muttering about too many names. Aragorn turned around, facing bright-red Samwise Gamgee. "I mean, King Elessar," Sam tried again, giving the Man a clumsy bow.

"Master Samwise," Aragorn nodded, fighting back his amused look. "I am glad to see you are well."

"I was one of the fortunate ones," Sam replied. "Me and my family are fine, though the same thing cannot be said about most of my folk." Sad eyes moved over the scenery around them, taking in the destruction of his once beautiful world. "I never thought it to extend here," Sam muttered. "I mean, there had been evil, of course, but this is worse. They did not come to oppress or rule. They came to kill."

"I am sorry, Sam," Aragorn said softly, even if he knew that his words wouldn't help much.

"Thank you," the Hobbit said soberly. "Of all people, I am glad to have you here. But how did you come so swiftly?" he asked, as if thinking that Aragorn had brought the Orcs with him.

"We knew of the battle… in a way," Aragorn replied slowly, suddenly understanding how ridiculous their explanation must sound. "But we were not sure that the battle was actually coming."

"Were you following the Orcs?" Sam tried again, frowning.

"No, to be honest," the Man said, his eyes searching for Legolas. The other was helping Gimli with a new shelter, oblivious to all else. "Legolas saw a vision. We couldn't be sure it would come true, but we didn't dare to risk it."

Sam looked at the Elf with a new wave of amazement. "What wondrous creatures those Elves are," he breathed. "I must thank him –"

"I would not do that, Sam," Aragorn warned suddenly. "Legolas doesn't wish to speak of it."

"Why not? Such a gift…"

"He has no such gift," the King of Men sighed. "That is why it nags him. Better to leave him alone."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "What will come next?" he asked aloud. "The Shire will be rebuilt, but the enemy left so suddenly. Is there a chance they would come again?"

"The Elves are expecting another attack to take place tonight," Aragorn stated as calmly as possible. "I am not sure, but I have faith in the opinion of Elves. All of them have fought this enemy far longer than I have lived."

"Another attack?" Sam shouted, his eyes flying wide. "Tonight!"

Aragorn indicated Sam to be silent, many curly heads already turned into their direction. "Do not scare the others. They have more important things in their minds than to worry about the future."

"More important than a batt–"

"Sam!" Aragorn hissed. "Take a hold of yourself. There is no reason to panic. What they all need most is a leader. Someone to tell them what to do. Someone who will make them feel safe. If you show your fear, your kinsmen will follow, and there is no way for you to survive the coming night."

"Is there a chance to survive, anyway?" Sam asked grumpily.

"I am still here," the Man said, kneeling before the Hobbit. "What you need to do is to gather your people further away from the battle. Éomer's men are trying to collect all the Hobbits here before nightfall, but we need you to take them to safety."

Sam nodded, his eyes still uncertain. "There are so many of them. The enemies, I mean. How can you fight them all?"

"I am still working on that," Aragorn confessed. "But gather your strength. You will need it soon, Samwise the Brave."

**

* * *

**

Rafél sat down with a sharp breathe, trying not to grimace as Thalión's sure fingers probed his wounded thigh. "You should count yourself lucky: this is a clean cut, easy to tend," the Cousin stated, yet his exploring didn't get any less tender. "Asthaldo, fetch me some hot water, will you?"

"Of course," the youngest Cousin replied, disappearing past the gathering ring of Elves.

"How did you manage to do that?" Ithika asked with a smile while binding a small cut in his own arm.

Rafél didn't answer, his unhappy look telling the spectators enough. The Elves laughed, making way to Asthaldo as the warrior returned.

"Now, keep still," Thalión informed his kinsman, taking the water. "Dínnor, hold him still."

"I can stay still on my own, thank you," Rafél replied.

"What is going on here? Did you find a lingering enemy?" came a gruff voice, Gimli pushing past the Elves. Legolas followed him, Merry and Pippin at his sides. "Oh, I see. Does this serve Elves as a number of entertainment?" the Dwarf laughed, earning a killing look from Rafél.

"What happened to you?" Legolas exclaimed, pushing roughly past the Dwarf. "I did not see that after the battle."

"That is because this old fox kept it hidden," Thalión snorted. "Now, if you don't mind," he said, pouring some of the hot water onto the wound. Rafél jolted back, his fingers digging into the stone he was sitting upon. His eyes flashed with pain, but he let out no sound.

"I know Elves are quick to heal and everything, but do you have to be this rough while tending your friends?" Pippin asked, seemingly more affected by the events than Rafél himself.

"He deserves it," Thalión replied, bathing the leg again. Blood was washed away with the water, trickling down along the pale flesh. The wound was soon cleaned, gaping open and looking very painful. Rafél merely sat on his place, biting his jaws together, his eyes observing the hurt.

"You kept it hidden?" Legolas pressed, stepping nearer to his guardian. "And wasn't it you who used to tell me that every wound – however minor it may seem – must be told of immediately?"

"That only counts you," Rafél ground out, shifting his leg. "As I am responsible of you –"

"You said that to every warrior you commanded," Legolas reminded.

"Perhaps, but just to remind you. And when I command someone, I am responsible of that person as well," the older Elf sighed, trying not to shy away as Thalión bound his leg. "My wound was so minor it didn't need further attention from others," he noted, shooting a glance at Thalión. "Now, if you are quite finished…" he began to get up.

"And where exactly you think you are going?" Legolas barked out, pushing Rafél back down. "Let your wound heal in peace, or else you will be no use to me."

Rafél looked ready to argue, but one glare from Legolas – in additional to the warning looks he was earning from the other Elves – kept him in his place. "Fine," he muttered unhappily. "I will rest for a while."

"I think I have never seen Legolas use such an authority before," Pippin whispered at Merry. What was meant to be a private announcement turned into a local statement, sharp Elven eyes turning at the Hobbits immediately. Pippin understood his error, giving the immortals an uncertain smile. "I mean, not in a bad way, but, err…"

It was Haldir who laughed first, to everyone's surprise, but the others soon joined to him. Confused Hobbits looked up at the Elves, unable to understand what had just happened. Gimli muttered something beneath his breath, shaking his shaggy head. "Crazy Elves," was possibly nearest to the truth.

"You are quite right, I suppose, master Peregrin," Asthaldo smiled. A playful glance was directed at a confused Legolas, a merry glint shining in the fallow eyes. "Very rare are the times when you see the youngest Prince of Mirkwood reveal his true might."

While another series of laughter took place, Pippin and Merry eyed the Elves. "They all seem to know Legolas pretty well," Pippin dared to whisper, earning a nod from Merry. "I wonder where they are all from: they have different kind of clothing, and their hair is bound differently too… As far as I can remember, that should mean they are from different places."

"Where indeed are our manners?" Elrohir announced loudly from behind the whispering couple, making unprepared Hobbits jump with surprise. "There are still some introductions to be made," the Lord of Imladris continued. "Legolas, if you may?"

The Prince gave the Half-Elf a smile full of venom, but his expression turned completely warm as it was directed at the Hobbits. "Forgive us our manners, indeed. Twin-sons of Elrond as well as Glorfindel you must remember from our time in Rivendell," he said indicating at Elladan and Elrohir, and then to the golden haired Elf beside Haldir. The Hobbits nodded, giving the twins and the elder warrior a hasty bow before turning back to Legolas. "Haldir and his brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, we met on our journey through Lothlórien."

"We remember," Merry smiled at Haldir.

"Ithika and his sister Khai are from the Golden Wood as well," Legolas continued. "They have know me since I was a youth, just like Haldir and his brothers."

"Ever be blessed that place," Gimli sighed with a surprisingly emotional tone. Some of the Elves seemed astonished by such a comment, but Legolas merely smiled, moving further in his introductions.

"The rest of the Elves are from my homeland, though they are originally from the ancient realms of Elves: all of then have seen the lands of Beleriand north from here. These three are the Cousins of Hithsîr, well known among my own kin: Dínnor, Thalión, and Asthaldo."

The Hobbits gave the trio a respectful look, their minds already wondering what kind of deeds those Cousins had done. Then Merry glanced at the Elf sitting next to Legolas, his eyes shifting back up at Legolas. "What about him?" he asked, trying not to sound rude.

"He is Rafél, Legolas' kinsman and Guardian. One of the eldest – if not the oldest – Elf remaining on these shores," Glorfindel spoke up. "He has travelled upon this earth since the Age of the Stars, and has seen many years pass into history."

"Guardian?" Pippin choke out. "Does that mean, like a body-guard?"

"Yes," Legolas muttered unhappily.

"But why does Legolas have a body-guard?" the younger Hobbit asked as if it would have been the most ridiculous thing in the world. "He needs no-one to look after him, of that I am certain."

Dínnor actually gifted Pippin by laughing aloud, earning a glare both from the guardian and his protege. "When Legolas was a youth, he definitely needed someone to look after him. Though several 'someones' would have worked better. Rafél had, at times, his hands more than full of his task."

"I still can't believe that," Merry agreed with his cousin. "It would be such a waste of time."

"Mirkwood was a dark place to grow up," Gimli explained. "At the time when Legolas was a child, the forest was darker than ever. And whom do you think taught him to fight? His father of course had a role to play in that, too, but the task was mostly Rafél's. And knowing Legolas, it is rather good thing he has his watcher with him at the moment: it would steal too much time from us others," the Dwarf laughed. "Do not try to deny it, for you have been in a lot of trouble at late."

Legolas' entire body tensed, his face freezing, and no other dared to speak, knowing that Gimli had crossed a dangerous line. Seeing the uneasiness pass over the group, Merry decided to change the subject, and turned into Orophin beside him. "I did not know that you knew Legolas from the past. I mean, when we met at Lothlórien."

"We were not very close friends, but we knew him well," Haldir answered. "We met Legolas for the first time when he was merely a youth, and visited his homeland at times after that. Since the war ended, there has been more dealings between us."

Merry nodded, thinking about the next possible subject, but Aragorn saved him from the trouble. Stepping into the group, the King received many respectful bows. Aragorn waved his hand, troubled look upon his face. "Please, my friends, that is not necessary."

Elves nodded, understanding the Man perfectly. "Can we do something for you?" Elladan requested.

"The healers are running out of certain local herbs," Aragorn said quietly. "I would wish for someone to find them for me, as I cannot go myself."

"Of course. Give me a list and I will search for what you need," Legolas volunteered, pushing Rafél back down as the other was about to rise. "Merry and Pippin, if you would join me. And Gimli," he added as he noticed the Dwarf's expectant look.

"I would come as well, if allowed," Faramir called out, joining to them. "I am used to travelling in the forest."

"Very well," Legolas welcomed the Man with a warm smile. "And in the meanwhile," he raised his voice, silencing his kinsmen effectively, "I would wish the remaining Elves to scout around. I do not wish to be surprised any more than the rest of us. Any sign of enemy will be a valuable information."

The Elves nodded, already forming groups and planning routes. Rafél shifted on his place, but Legolas' grip upon his shoulder kept him in place. Glaring up at the younger Elf, Rafél did not trouble to hide his mounting anger.

")Keep your peace. You are in no condition to watch my back, anyway. Gimli will take care of that, but we have no reason to assume that we will meet enemies,(" Legolas whispered, his eyes still locked into the people around them.

")Is that what you told to yourself before the Men of Gondor caught you?(" Rafél answered a bit harshly, his eyes narrowing. ")You told me once, not a long while back, that you would let me to do my job.("

")In this condition you could not guard even yourself,(" the Prince replied, finally looking down.

Rafél shook his head, standing up even as Legolas tried to stop him. The pain in his leg gave away before his anger, his gaze pinning Legolas down with its intensity. ")Do not tell me what to do. I am your senior, and well aware of my body's limits. Unlike you seem to be.("

Everyone had hushed around the fighting couple, heads turned at their direction. The Hobbits looked from one Elf to another, not understanding a single word. Other Firstborns looked fairly troubled, trying to decide between leaving the two in peace or breaking them apart.

Legolas glanced at their companions, then at the Elf before him. ")You stay behind. Do not forget that I am your Prince.("

Rafél opened his mouth, but at that moment Aragorn stepped in, setting a firm hand on the other's arm. "If you would help me with the wounded, I would be most grateful. Glorfindel also promised to join me, but we would wish to have more of your kin with us. My powers are lacking at some cases."

Rafél gave out a long sigh, knowing that he had lost the game. "I am more than happy to help you, King Elessar," he replied, but his eyes that met Legolas' told entirely another story.

"I will look after him," Gimli told the guardian as the Elf walked away after Aragorn. Rafél merely nodded, afraid to put his answer into words.

**

* * *

**

Legolas kneeled in the undergrowth, his knowing eyes searching the plants Aragorn had asked him to find. Faramir and the Hobbits were some distance to his side, Gimli watching the forest almost suspiciously. _The Dwarf should know better. If there is an enemy nearby, I would be able to sense them miles before the Dwarf. But then again, it is not his fault that he is on his guard: I have given him enough reason for that._ Frowning, Legolas thought about this. He was too far by now to merely pass the fact that he wasn't acting quite normally at times. Small changes were taking place in him, but yet he knew not how to repel them. _Or maybe it is just me… But Rafél is certainly worried. And he is not the only one._ Legolas sighed, shaking his head. It seemed that everyone around him were concerned of his well-being. _And not without a reason, again. But perhaps my dreams shall end now that the fight I foresaw has passed._

A small breathe of wind swayed the trees, making the leaves rustle against one another. Wandering among the trees seemed to calm his mood, and he thought that he would even be able to meet his guardian after returning to the village. Rafél would be furious, of course, but it couldn't be helped. _He cares so much. Perhaps too much, for his own good._ A fond smile passed Legolas' features as he thought his tall guardian. Something between them had changed radically after he had left with the Fellowship. But the greatest turn had taken place during their latest events, after the attack to Woodland Realm. _Sometimes it seems to me that the way he looks at me has changed. His touch, the way he says my name..._ With an ironic smile, Legolas dismissed his thoughts. _It is merely my own imagination. But then again, how do I see him at the moment? Has he become so close that I must actually push him away now that I try to hide my thoughts? He has always been close to me, yes, but this feeling is something new. And it has nothing to do with my dreams._ The conclusion seemed to be far too easily reached, and Legolas gazed at the trees, his mind wandering. _I think differently of him, yes. There is no way I can deny that. My heart has chosen its course…_

Snapping out of his thoughts, Legolas looked around, and then moved forward, trying to force his mind back to the matter at hand. _It is dangerous to mingle the matters of heart with my current problems. But why did I think such a way in the first place?_ Biting his lip, Legolas mused on that, the plants entirely forgotten. _If this is what I think it to be…but no, it cannot. And then…_

"Are you actually trying to find something, or did you decide to sit there all day?" a gruff voice asked, Gimli's heavy boots sinking into the soft moss beside Legolas.

"I was merely thinking," Legolas mumbled, directing his eyes back to the ground after a quick look to his friend. "I stuck into my thoughts."

"And what kind of thoughts are those?" Gimli inquired with a strange tone. "Such a blush on your face is new to me." Legolas' hands shot up to his face, making Gimli laugh. "Ah, poor Elf. You went into that almost too easily. But does that mean I guessed some of your true thoughts?" the Dwarf teased, earning a deadly scowl from the Elf.

"Keep your mighty nose out of my business, Dwarf, or you may loose it swifter than you realise."

"Now, now, let's not be touchy! I did not ask you to tell me anything," Gimli grumbled. "But I am all ears if you wish to speak of it."

"You would not understand…" Legolas muttered beneath his breath. "Just leave me alone, will you?"

"Of course, your highness," Gimli answered with a bow, backing off swiftly. "Could it be that I found a soft spot…" he mused, glancing back at the Elf. Legolas seemed finally focusing at his task, but Gimli had watched him enough to know that the other's thoughts were somewhere else.

"Do you think we could speak with him for a moment?" Pippin's small voice asked beside Gimli, the Hobbits observing the Elf as well.

"Sure," Gimli chuckled. "Just don't point out that he is a bit in his dreams," he added as a piece of advice, winking.

"Ah… right," Merry muttered, and then walked beside his cousin to the Elf. "Legolas?" he called out hesitantly, not wishing to bother the Elf if the other wished to be alone.

But Legolas smiled at the Hobbits, silently inviting them to join him. "Can I help you?" he asked softly as the couple came up to him. The small creatures busied themselves among the plants for a moment, as if trying to find a proper way of asking something.

"We were wondering…" Pippin began, glancing at Merry for aid.

"These Orcs," Merry continued, facing Legolas. "Were did they come from? I thought they were all destroyed with Sauron." Pippin nodded eagerly, also standing up, herbs forgotten.

Legolas looked at the two for a moment, sorrow filling his blue eyes. He had completely forgotten how naive this folk was, even if these two had seen enough evil for many lifetimes. But they deserved a worthy answer, for even if they lived in a world of their own, they were not stupid. "Most of the Orcs fell the day Sauron was destroyed, yes, but not all. Great number fled to the mountains, hiding from the other people. But now they have multiplied in silence and gathered together." There was a long silence, and for a moment the Hobbits thought it was the end of the tale. But Legolas' eyes turned to the east, strange light filling them. "They united: under what commander, we do not know. Months back, they attacked Woodland Realm. Now it seems they have made it this far."

"Attacked Woodland Realm?" Pippin stammered. "But isn't that the place where you live? I mean, before you moved into Ithilien. And the place where Bilbo and the Dwarves were imprisoned."

"It is," Legolas replied quietly.

"But… isn't there a lot of Elves there? Didn't they destroy the enemies?" Merry wondered with a frown.

Gimli let out a warning cough, knowing that the Hobbits were unconsciously putting themselves into a great danger. But Legolas did not rebuke the small being, nor did he anger. He had travelled long enough with this couple to know how their minds worked. "My homeland was destroyed. The enemy was too many, and we were surprised. Most of my people were slain…"

"You speak as if you were there," Pippin mused, compassion on his youthful features. "I am sorry."

"We were there," Gimli spoke up, making the others turn at his direction. Faramir also joined to them, curious for the discussion that was taking place. "I can still feel the fire raging in the halls, the smell the death," the Dwarf continued. His hand stole to the necklace around his neck, Legolas mimicking his actions unconsciously. The Dwarf's brown eyes met Legolas', something passing between them. The Elf bowed his head, a strange gesture of guilt. Faramir and the Hobbit's shared a look, all of them feeling outsiders at the moment.

Suddenly Legolas' head jerked up, his eyes wide. He glanced at the forest, alarm upon his fair face. "We must return at once," he gasped. He glanced at others who stared at him in wonder, not understanding his sudden haste. "Go, I said!" Legolas exclaimed, pushing the startled Hobbits forward. "Tell Aragorn to summon his Men at once."

"What is wrong?" Faramir asked as he turned to leave, letting the smaller folk pass before him.

"They are here," Legolas said with a hollow voice, his eyes suddenly distant. Faramir did not bother to ask further, for he as well was able to feel the nearing darkness.

"What is it?" Pippin asked fearfully as they ran through the forest, Legolas some distance behind them.

"I am not sure, but I don't wish to stay and find out, either," the Steward answered, giving the forest behind them a careful look. "I can feel it, the darkness. Maybe the Orcs have returned."

A high, unnaturally piercing scream rang through the forest. Trees fell silent, animals hiding in their nests, and a deadly silence seemed to fill all the world. Only a moment after another series of such screams followed, making the Hobbits cover their ears in pain. A wall of malice seemed to spread from behind, eating alive all hope of survival.

"You know, that sounded just like –"

"Don't say it, Pippin!" Merry cried out at his cousin, his eyes wide. "Just run."

Gimli slowed down a little, his eyes spotting Legolas some distance behind them. The Elf seemed somehow lost, his movements almost forced. _What is that stupid Elf doing? First he warns us of danger, and then he waits until it reaches him?_ "Legolas, hurry!" he shouted, his mind screaming with terror. Something evil was approaching them swiftly.

Legolas blinked, Gimli's words clear in his ears. But yet he found himself reluctant to follow. Whispers were filling his mind, shadows blocking his view. His thoughts were getting disoriented as well, not letting him to analyse the events taking place around him. Only when Gimli shouted his name again and the jewel around his neck flickered in alarm, he blinked, waking from the dream he had been almost trapped in.

With a final look to the suddenly dark forest, Legolas turned towards his friends, racing after them. He saw Gimli giving him a nod, and then the Dwarf also ran forward, the others already a good way ahead of them.

_"Stop!"_

Legolas felt his body shudder in response as a hissing voice filled his mind. He fought off the darkness, pressing on.

_"It is too late to run. Obey us."_

Legolas clenched his eyes shut, his mind aflame with blinding pain. His entire awareness was limited to the evil voices calling for him, and flash of agony followed every time he denied them.

_"Come to us,"_ the voices called. It might have been one, or many, the words echoing as if in emptiness.

With a pained gasp, Legolas rushed forward, knowing that if he fell too far behind, he would never make it back to the others.

**

* * *

**

Aragorn sighed wearily, standing up to flex his tired muscles. He had worked for several hours now, helping wounded of several stages. Broken arms, deep gashes, pounding heads and twisted ankles. He couldn't even bring himself to remember them all. Though whatever damage he faced, it did not belong into a creature like a Hobbit; folk as peaceful as they could have never gained more bruises than too many ales or snacks could have caused. Or so it should have been. As it was, Aragorn's only choice was to do his best to help the wounded ones.

_And yet there is another battle to come. Or at least one. No one has dared to guess how long the Orcs will assault this area._ The Man let out a tired sigh, his hand searching for his pipe. Then he remembered that it was in his pack, and with an unhappy shrug he walked down a small hill to join into his fellow Men.

Éomer had just returned from his own scouting mission, welcoming Aragorn with a warm smile. "I was just about to come and search you, but it seems you saved me from the trouble."

"What news do you bring?" Aragorn questioned, suddenly awake and alert again.

"It seems that the Orcs didn't attack all the Shire. This is strange, because other parts of this land are closer to the Misty Mountains, not Hobbiton which they attacked," the Horse-lord mused.

"Which means they attacked this place with purpose," Aragorn pondered. "They circled the other areas, then? Buckland and the areas between it and Hobbiton?"

"Yes," Éomer confirmed.

"Someone is commanding them," Aragorn muttered. "And that someone has a plan. Before we know it, we have no way of knowing that the Hobbits are safe."

Éomer nodded, agreeing fully. "What are we going to do?"

"I have no idea," the King of Men confessed. "We must just wait and see what out enemy decides to do. Perhaps there won't be another attack, as there was none against Woodland Realm, later."

"The Elves are returning," Éomer said suddenly, pointing at the gathering group some distance away from the Men. "They might have news for us."

Aragorn nodded, striding to the place where the Elves were gathering. "Any news?" he asked eagerly. Elves had a custom of sharing information with each other – a habit that served in a purpose to fill one's story with another's. After this, every Elf would know practically everything.

"Nothing overly surprising," Elladan spoke up, others agreeing with him. "The enemy is waiting for the nightfall in every shelter possible. If they move at sunset, it will take them under an hour to reach us."

"An hour…" Aragorn murmured. "It is too little for us, at any rate."

"And it is only an estimation," Haldir continued, glancing at the returning Cousins. "They may get here quicker if the closest ones come ahead of those further away. This way they could form two waves in their attack."

"They are preparing for battle," Dínnor added, "there is no mistake of that."

"We should also prepare, if that is the case," Éomer said quietly. "I will summon my Men."

Aragorn nodded, unhappy of the way the events were taking place. They could not win, perhaps not even protect the Hobbits …

"There is evil in the air," Rafél said suddenly, making everyone fall silent.

"I feel it," Thalión agreed. "But it is deeper… purer than the Orcs'."

"It's –" Rafél halted suddenly, his eyes getting wide. "Legolas…" he gasped. Then he let out a series of harsh Elvish curses, making his kinsmen cringe back in alarm. He was just about to rush forward when two small creatures emerged from the forest a half a mile away from them. They halted momentarily when they arrived to the open land, waving their hands and shouting as they ran forward again.

"What on earth…" Éomer mused.

"It is Merry and Pippin," Elrohir informed, his eyes narrowing. "I think something it wrong. They shout something of preparing for battle and enemies." He glanced swiftly at Rafél who was now standing still as a statue, his face pale and focused. "What is going on?"

"I wish I knew," Elladan answered, shaking his head. "It is too early for Orcs to attack: the sun hasn't even set yet. Rafél?" he turned to ask, wishing that the older Elf could light them up.

"I am not sure…" Rafél said hesitantly. "Legolas senses it clearly, but he doesn't allow me into his thoughts…"

Suddenly two other figures joined to the Hobbits, one taller and one shorter. All four rushed towards them, throwing uncertain glances at the direction of the forest. "Faramir and Gimli," Asthaldo identified. "But where is Legolas?"

The Hobbits had almost reached them by then, their shouts reaching even the ears of Men. "You have to summon the Men! We are under an attack!"

"You can't be sure about that, Pip! Legolas never said it was an attack," Merry disagreed as they halted before the gathering group of Elves and Men, panting with effort.

"But you heard the screams! Surely there is something dark and terrible coming right after us!" Pippin almost shouted, shivering all over. "They sounded just like the Black Riders, and I am sure –"

"Enough, Pippin! They are dead, so forget about it!" Merry barked, turning to the waiting faces of others. "Legolas told us to come back and warn you. I guess he sensed something."

Faramir and Gimli also reached the waiting company, both gasping for breath. "The enemy," Faramir panted. "I am not sure what it was –"

"Wait, where is the Elf!" Gimli bounced, looking back. "Argh, that stupid creature! I told him to follow us!"

Rafél moved before any one was able to stop him, moving towards the forest with a speed only Elves posses.

"This evil! What was it?" Thalión demanded, looking at the four, tired creatures before him.

"We didn't see it," Merry began.

"But we heard them!" Pippin exclaimed, rubbing his ears.

"Even I was able to feel the evil radiating from whatever was after us," Faramir continued. "It was as if a wall of evil would have risen out of nowhere," he explained, glancing back at the forest. Rafél was already gone from his sight, disappeared into the forest. Shadows of the trees leaned towards them in an unnatural way, like long, twisted fingers reaching over the grass-plain. "Why did Legolas stay behind?" Faramir asked quietly, worried frown upon his face. "He seemed quite afraid of what was coming…"

"I do not know, but we had better find those two before anything worse happens," Glorfindel stated. "Call the Men together. It seems that the darkness comes early today, and Orcs may move out sooner than we thought. Then –"

A new set of screams rang through the air, making the Elves cover back in agony and filling the Men with unreasonable fear. Hobbits gazed at the forest with wide eyes, Merry suddenly grasping his hand as if it pained him.

"Only one creature on Arda makes a sound like that," Dínnor gasped, holding his head.

"Nazgûl," Glorfindel whispered. "But it cannot be… They were destroyed with Sauron!"

**

* * *

**

Rafél had feared the worse and prepared himself to search Legolas for miles, but as he entered to the forest, he spotted the younger Elf immediately. Standing on the edge of the wood, his breathing erratic and uneven, Legolas didn't seem to notice anything around him. His eyes were tightly closed, as if trying to block away the outside. _Or something in the inside_, Rafél thought as he rushed at Legolas' side. "Las, it is time to go," he said softly, his hand pressing against the other's shoulder.

Legolas shook his head, eyes still closed, but his hand shot out, fisting itself at Rafél's tunic. After another shuddery breath he opened his eyes, looking at Rafél. There was apology in his eyes, but his guardian did not halt to scold him, instead drawing him along.

A furious scream rang through the air, making both Elves cover their ears. The wind turned cold and cruel, ripping leaves from the trees. Clouds veiled the sky, the darkness stealing all light of the sun.

"We have to…" Legolas gasped, his eyes locked at Rafél's, trying to tell him what to do without words.

Rafél nodded, understanding. Blue eyes that gazed at him were shimmering with shadows, and it seemed that the younger Elf was having a fight with some inner demon. Giving the forest a quick glance, Rafél took Legolas' hand and drew the other Elf with him, forcing him to follow. It was then when he heard them for the first time: a sound of hooves carried to his ears, but he was unable to hear any other noise made by horses.

Almost out of the forest, Rafél dared a quick glance back. It proved out to be a mistake: his entire mind froze, familiar feel of evil and darkness taking hold of him. His body also stopped, making Legolas collide into him, but he stood his ground, staring at the dark forest behind them. From the darkness materialised several shapes, riders upon great horses. They seemed to move as if in a dream, Rafél's mind noticing every detail. Black cloaks fluttered in the air, armour-clad hands holding the dark reins… Then someone pushed against him, waking him from his dream of terror.

"We have to go!" Legolas shouted almost desperately, the shadows finally fading from his eyes.

Rafél nodded, coming back to himself, and started forward with Legolas beside him. They dove through the final layer of bushes and tangled trees, making their way to the grassy field. The sound of approaching horses filled their ears, waves of unnatural terror freezing their blood. But after living centuries in the shadow of Dol Guldur, the fear of evil did not paralyse either of the Elves.

Leaves rustled, small branches giving away before a greater weight. Across the field, Men and Elves watched in shock and disbelief as nine riders emerged from the forest. Creatures that should have been long gone raced towards them, their ancient, twisted blades raising into the air, shining with a dark light on their own.

"Valar, no…"Aragorn gasped, his eyes wide. "This cannot be…"

"Legolas!" Gimli shouted, his fear for his friend driving away the terror of Nazgûl.

The riders came towards them with increasing speed, and with a desperate strength, Rafél pushed himself and Legolas to the ground, feeling the air rush past then as the riders passed them by an inch. Raising his head from the soft grass, Rafél saw the Nine halt before them, turning their horses around. _They are coming back_, he thought with despair. Glancing at his side, he noticed Legolas had most likely reached the very same conclusion. But the younger Elf's face revealed no fear. Merely determination. Surety of something…

At that moment Legolas got back to his feet, meeting the Black Riders who were now spurring their horses back to a gallop. Blue eyes narrowed, his mind finally set. "Morchaint!" he called out with a clear voice. A neigh answered, the black horse rushing through the field. _He must have sensed them coming_, Legolas mused as he watched his steed approach. The Nine were getting closer, but it had taken enough time from them to halt and turn their horses after their previous pace.

Turning to Rafél, Legolas threw him a quick smile. "Trust me," he said, knowing that it would do little to ease his guardian's mind. Then he turned back at his enemies, launching forward just when Morchaint ran past him. With Elven agility he pulled himself up to the back of the horse, guiding Morchaint towards the dark forest. Nazgûl cried out in dismay, spurring their horses into a pursuit. "Last time they got too close, my friend," Legolas said into Morchaint's ear, tapping the side of the strong neck affectionately. "Let's show them, this time." Morchaint neighed, flattening his ears as they entered the forest, nine other riders following right behind them.

Rafél was quite sure he was not the only one shouting Legolas' name as the Prince called out his horse and led the Nazgûl away. _What is he doing? Surely he understands he cannot take care of them all by himself_, he thought as anger bloomed in him. They would have a nice, penetrating discussion about this when Legolas came back, that would be certain. He was just about to call his own horse when something alarmed his senses. He turned to look at the forest, the voices of the trees filling his mind. It took him only one moment to understand what was going on. ")_Yrch!_("

"What?" Pippin asked, still trying to recover from the sudden sight of the Black Riders. He gazed at Rafél who suddenly turned back to them, braking into a run.

"Orcs!" Dínnor cursed. "They are attacking!"

"This early? Weren't they supposed to come with sunset?" Merry asked, visibly frightened.

"Doesn't matter," Elladan decided. "Aragorn, collect your Men!"

The King of Men nodded, turning to his kinsmen nearest to them. "The enemy has come. Prepare for battle!" Several Men nodded, shouting out orders to those who were further away. Faramir also left, knowing that he would be needed while arranging their forces.

Rafél reached the rest of the group, trying to calm his breathe. "They will be here at any moment," he gasped.

"What does that ridiculous Elf think he is doing!" Gimli bellowed, almost making Rafél fall back in surprise as a Dwarven hurricane assaulted him. "And you just let him go!"

"Master Gimli," Rafél tried, but he stood no chance.

"We have to go after him! He cannot –"

"Gimli! It is –" Aragorn began, but was interrupted himself.

"Too late. They are here," Thalión said, drawing his bow. "Collect your Men, Elessar. The Elves will keep the Orcs occupied for a moment." The Sinda let his gaze travel over his kinsmen, finally reaching Rafél. "Legolas made his choice. Let us pray that it was the right one."

"He told me to trust him," Rafél muttered, his downcast eyes showing his displeasure.

Thalión nodded. "Then we must do so. He knows something that we do not."

Rafél raised his head, wondering about this, but there was time for no more words as a black wave came forth from the forest. Hundreds of Orcs raised their voices, shouting their challenge to the defenders as they rushed forward. Elves didn't hesitate, bows sending a rain of arrows to the air. It was little when compared to the number of their enemies, but it made harm to the lines of Orcs.

Aragorn cursed under his breathe, falling back to give the Elves more space. His task was to organise his Men before the Orcs would reach them. "Éomer, gather your riders!" he shouted, running back to the village.

"Do you have a plan?" Éomer shouted in turn, gazing at the flow of enemies as he took after the other King.

"Perhaps. Now hurry, we are running out of time."

**

* * *

**

The sound of hooves was muffled by the soft forest-floor, an occasional sound of a breaking twig and a rustle of leaves indicating the horse's movements through the dark woods. Branches and bushes were forced aside as a great body pushed ahead, tireless and resolute.

As no more sounds could be heard behind him, Legolas looked back, his movements making Morchaint lessen his speed. _Have they turned back?_ Legolas mused, worry entering his mind. It made no sense as the Nazgûl's attention had been solely directed at him before. But as their pursue through the forest had drawn on, the Nine had fallen back, and now they were gone. Morchaint turned around under him, its great head rising to stare at the forest. Legolas slid an absent hand along the black neck, his senses reaching out to the early night. _Where are they?_

Not even a bare whisper of wind spoke of the presence of Wraiths. All the world stood silent, as if waiting for something dreadful to happen. Distant noises of the battle carried clearly in the air, informing Legolas that the Orcs had also come. That knowledge set his mind, and pressing his legs against Morchaint's sides, he spurred the horse forward, towards the fight.

When Legolas emerged to the far side of the field, he halted for a moment to evaluate the situation. A black mass of Orcs was pushing against the line of Men, but the number of Orc-corpses told that the casualties were still mainly one-sided. Drawing his bow, Legolas commanded Morchaint forward, galloping through the plain of long grass. His first arrow knocked a giant Orc over, the second one bringing down a villain archer. A moment later he approached the line of enemies, replacing his bow with his white knives. Then he rode to the dark mass, taking a swiftest path to his comrades.

Elladan raised his head as a loud neigh reached his ears, and he was just able turn before Legolas rode past him, decapitating an Orc standing beside him. The Peredhil smiled, waving his hand as a salute, and then returned back to the matter at hand. His brother halted momentarily to notice Legolas as well, but then joined his sword to Elladan's.

"Good to see he is still alive," Elrohir quipped, kneeling down to let his elder twin slay an approaching enemy.

"Saves us from a lot of trouble, later," Elladan agreed. "Overall, I could say we are doing quite well: Aragorn's plan worked as expected."

"What else would you expect from him after all the years under our watchful eye?" Elrohir laughed.

"I would not expect much, my young Lords. Now, some focus if I may ask," Glorfindel joined to them, giving them a sharp smile. The Twins nodded meekly, turning back to the matter at hand.

_Oh yes, we may yet win this fight_, Elladan mused, letting his thoughts wander a slightly as his body fell into rhythm of a deadly dance. _After Elves met the first line, Rohirrim attacked the side of the enemy, pushing them apart. One side faced us, joined with Men of Gondor, and the other took the full impact of the Horsemen. Of course the second wave of enemies forced us to unite, but we got an upper hand of the foul creatures._

"Elladan," Elrohir hissed with a warning voice.

"With you," Elladan smiled.

"Always," the other finished with a nod.

A dagger flashed through the air, embedding deep into an archer-Orc near the Twins. The couple raised their heads, meeting Asthaldo's happy face. "What was that for?" Elladan wondered.

"He almost shot me," Asthaldo mouthed back to them, stepping back to give Dínnor more space as the elder Cousin crossed swords with a giant Orc. With a disapproving look, Asthaldo shook his head and embedded his short sword deeply to the Orc's gut. Dínnor gave him a dark glance, but moved on to find another enemy. "And my mother always told me to be polite and helpful," Asthaldo muttered, following his cousin.

Thalión watched the display with a small smile, pairing up with Glorfindel next to him. With a nod from the golden-haired Elf, they fell into a similar speed, pushing the enemies back from them. Orcs fell all around them, replaced by others, but their calmness did not fade, their movement keeping their surety.

Elladan couldn't but observe with honour as his elders fought, and think himself lucky. He had such companions in war, none of them lacking in strength or skill. Each of them could have taught him to be one of the greatest warriors of the world. As his eyes moved further along the battlefield, he spotted an Elf with almost white hair, his movement graceful and even, his face unmoving with concentration. _Of all the heroes I fight with today, Rafél might be my choice for an instructor. Though it is no wonder: he is many times older than my own father, and he has seen countless wars take place upon this earth. No wonder Legolas has become what he is: he couldn't have hoped for a better teacher._

On his side, Rafél lifted his head, his _fëa_ informing him that his protege was near. His eyes spotted Morchaint almost immediately, joined into a group of Rohirrim riders. A brief smile passed his features as he saw Legolas was intact. The Prince rode forth with other riders, pushing back yet another group of Orcs. _It seems that the army wasn't as big as we first thought. But then again, even a force like this might do a lot of harm in a Hobbit-village._ Thrusting his sword behind him, Rafél impaled an Orc that had attempted to creep upon the oblivious Elf. _But we must still win an enemy whose number easily rivals ours._

Legolas smiled as he felt Rafél's _fëa_ reach out to touch his. Seemingly his guardian had noticed his arrival, and a rush of the other's relief swam through him. _Worry not, Rafél: I have no intentions to get hurt this time._ Speeding Morchaint into a new attack beside the Men, Legolas balanced his knives in his hands, taking the required distance to the riders next to him. The great horse under him snorted, increasing his speed as Legolas' thighs pressed against his sides to stable himself.

The impact jarred Legolas' body as the line of riders hit the forces of Orcs. Snarls and shouts rose up to meet them, but the horses dove their way through the foul creatures, their riders leaving a trail of death behind them. Legolas' own blades were shining with black blood, their deadly arches making steady destruction on the nearest Orcs. They reached the end of the enemy's lines, turning their horses back, ready to return back to the side of the village.

It was then when the air seemed to freeze, Orcs halting in their battle momentarily. Then their voices rose with new intensity, and they pressed upon the defenders with new excitement. The Men of Rohan charged back after nothing happened, but Legolas stood frozen, his eyes distant. A whisper of air swayed his hair, making circles around him in the grass. Morchaint snorted softly, flattening his ears. Yet Legolas did not move, his breathe stopped, shadows filling his mind anew: asking him to wait.

Aragorn halted in his battle, his sword still tilted upwards as his eyes searched the battleground. He sensed that something was wrong, but he was not sure what. A feel of cold emptiness was filling his heart, desperation suddenly invading his thoughts. Shaking his head, he tried to rid his mind of such ideas. _We aren't near of losing, so why such thoughts? Unless… _He sought the field before him, recognising Legolas' still form. _Is he also sensing it. But what is he waiting for..?_

Legolas knew they were coming, but he found himself unable to move. And when he finally fought himself out of his trance, it was too late. Nine dark shapes emerged from the forest, their unnatural screams encouraging the Orcs and terrorising the hearts of their enemies. Morchaint reared, starting forward as if knowing they were in danger, but this time the others were a step ahead of them: facing the mass of the Orcs, Morchaint was forced to a halt. Legolas blinked, his fingers gripping the black mane maddeningly. The world seemed to spin around him, dark whispers filling his mind. _Their_ whispers. Telling him to stop. To yield.

Legolas shook his head, trying to force Morchaint onward, but they were completely blocked. A cold wind whipped around the horse and the rider, the Orcs pushing back from them as if in fear or respect, but that joy was short-lived to Legolas. A second later, the Nine surrounded him, the Orcs falling back from them like frightened lambs.

The Elf stared at his enemies, his mind suddenly clear. No more whispers, no confusing darkness. He would have been able to run, but he couldn't: he was trapped. One of the Nine came closer, his posture speaking of leadership. _Angmar_, Legolas cursed, his fingers tightening around the hilts of his blades. His entire body concentrated, tensing up with alarm.

Aragorn's eyes widened as the Nine appeared again, but his frozen disbelief did not last long. However it was possible that these creatures were alive, it did not matter. They would fight the enemy, and ponder the "whys" and the "hows" later. When Legolas was surrounded, every rational thought left him. He sprang forward, knowing that his friend would need any help possible. He had fought these monsters before, and could do so again, if needed.

Legolas saw from the corner of his eyes as Aragorn left his place in the battle, making his way towards him. He wasn't sure if he should curse the stubborn King or thank him: no Man could kill these wraiths, and at the moment it seemed that the Nazgûl weren't about to leave before their task here was done, whatever it was.

Angmar moved even closer, guiding his horse beside Legolas'. _Not a horse_, the Prince decided. _At least not a living one. What beasts do their ghosts of past ride?_ He had no time to ponder that as Angmar turned to him, a weight of pure malice falling upon Legolas.

The Prince turned away, pain assaulting him from both inside and out. His hand shot out without conscious thought, embedding his blade deeply into the Nazgûl's chest. Angmar stared at the blade, hissing as if in pain. Legolas waited, eyes wide and full of sudden fear. With a noise that could have been an amused snort, Angmar ripped the blade from his chest, eyeing it carefully. Then the black hood turned to the side, and with an almost careless shot, he hurled the blade at the running King.

Aragorn's body halted with a jerk, the pure impact making him stagger back. He blinked, not understanding what had hit him. Then he looked down, and his right hand released the sword it was holding. In his left shoulder, some inches above his heart, was Legolas' white knife, buried all the way through his body. A violent shudder ran through him, and he fell to his knees, unable to do anything else. With a great amount of strength he lifted his head, his pained eyes taking in the scene before him, leaving him helpless to do anything.

Legolas watched in horror as his friend fell, rage and worry mounting in him. He turned at the dark creature before him, murder in his eyes. No-one would get away after such an act…

Angmar smiled, that was sure. It could not be seen on his face, but its coldness could be felt. Then he reached forward, his hand burying at gold tresses in Legolas' neck, armoured hand preventing all movement from the trapped Prince. His free hand disappeared for a moment, and Legolas used that time on his advantage, burying his remaining blade into the arm holding him. Usually, Elven blade would have caused unnamed pain to a dark creature such as a Nazgûl. But Angmar did not even flinch, nor did he glance at the blade as he raised his right arm again, bringing a long knife in Legolas' line of vision.

Legolas shuddered, his eyes tracing the blade of the weapon before him, his mind not even daring to guess what was written in the runes on its surface. In a way, it was a beautiful knife, glowing with its own inner light, its blade shining, unblemished. But its light was darker than any starless night, its runes speaking of evil and pain.

With a yank of his left hand, Angmar brought Legolas' face up, forcing the Elf to face him fully. He leaned closer, their faces almost touching. "Welcome to darkness, Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of Dol Guldur," said a voice of dark venom, dead and yet so alive. Then the right hand came forward, striking the dark blade deep into the immortal body.

Legolas' mouth opened to a scream which never came, his eyes widening as the knife cut smoothly into his chest. Coldness spread through him, blending with a searing heat. All time seemed to stand still, his world narrowing to the one still holding him and to the blade in him. With a deft movement, Angmar tilted the knife slightly, and then thrust if forward, burying it to the hilt. At that moment the blade vanished, and Legolas screamed, pain assaulting him on its fullest. The handle fell to the ground, now useless.

Rafél halted as if an invisible wall would have collided onto him, pain blooming in his mind. His _fëa_ screamed, its agony spreading all over his body, unforgiving and brutal. Panting for air, Rafél turned his head, uncertain for what he was searching for. He found out soon enough: a hundred yards away from him the leader of Ringwraiths moved his horse to the side, letting Legolas limp form fall to the ground.

Rafél never cried out his Prince's name: he had no time for it. Legolas' _fëa_ clung onto his, almost forcing his feet from under him, the other Elf's pain becoming his. Deathly cold spread over him, and all the world seemed to fall into dead silence. All colours disappeared, world turning ashen and bloody red. Life vanished, as if it wouldn't have mattered anymore. Gasping in torment, Rafél pressed his hand against his heart, fighting to stay conscious. He could not give in now…

The Nazgûl gathered around the fallen Elf, forming a circle of darkness around the unmoving form. Angmar stepped closer, pulling off the hindering Elven blade still in his arm. Morchaint backed off in obvious fear, the animal's high neighs speaking of pure terror. The Black Riders ignored the horse, their attention solely upon the Elf. Angmar knelt down slowly, reaching out with his hand, his fingers ghosting over the deathly pale skin of Legolas' face.

Then an arrow shot through the air, sinking deeply into the Witch-king's back. With an ear-piercing scream, Angmar's body arched back, the arrow shining brightly against the dark material of the Wraith's robe. Nazgûl turned around, facing this new threat with malicious sounds of hatred and anger.

_to be continued…_


	30. Chapter 28: Departed One's Return

**Chapter 28: Departed One's Return**

* * *

Like a storm in its full fury, Angmar whipped around. Nine swords were freed from their scabbards, shining darkly in the night. All battle ceased around the Nazgûl: Orcs, Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits stared and waited what would happen. Without hesitation, Angmar took a step forward, and was rewarded with another arrow.

Aragorn turned his head, his eyes catching Rafél standing alone, only his raised bow between him and the Black Riders. There was not a single shadow of terror upon his pale face, and the only fear he might have had was that for his Prince. New arrow was set to the taut string, strong fingers caressing the feathered head.

All sides waited, none daring to move.

Angmar ripped the arrows from his body, casting them aside with a malicious hiss. Then he took another step, pointing with the tip of his sword at the guardian. "You shall die tonight, Firstborn," he promised with a voice echoing in the night, chilling the hearts of those who heard him. The Nazgûl went forth as one, ready to end the life of the offending creature before them.

Aragorn opened his mouth for warning, knowing that Rafél would stand his ground to the end. But as Aragorn tried to call out, he found the unnatural fear grab him, taking his breathe away. The terror of Nazgûl was more powerful than ever. Only Rafél seemed not to be effected by it, his loyalty pushing all fear and reason aside from one goal: to save Legolas. That was exactly what Aragorn knew the other was trying to do – what he would have done if able – but at the moment, that intent was beyond them both: nine devils stood between them and the Prince.

Darkness fell heavily over all the world, extinguishing the final spark of hope in the hearts of those who defended Hobbiton. Weight of the shadow increased, all faith in victory and survival drowned by the endless flow of evil. All was lost…

Light exploded in the village suddenly, brighter than any dawn after a long night. All heads turned at the growing light, dark creatures stepping back aghast. Nazgûl let out a chorus of cries, backing off slightly. Rays of pure light spread around, pushing back the shadows and driving away the fear in the hearts of those who stood against the darkness.

Aragorn turned his head, pain flashing in his shoulder, but he ignored it, willing himself to see what was happening. A wave of stinging pain assaulted his eyes as he stared at the bright light, but it was sweet discomfort after the coldness of evil. The lingering feel of malice was soothed away by the warm rays, the ebbing pain falling back. Tears came to his eyes, his heart filled with disbelief, and he would have shaken his head if he had the strength. But as it was, he merely kneeled on his place on the ground, his eyes following a figure that emerged from the brightness, riding forth to meet the shadows.

Rafél also dared a look back, his enemies' movements speaking of something unexpected happening. His eyes grew wide, the tip of the bow in his hands dropping lower, the arrow falling to the ground. Across the field, on the edge of the village, stood an old man on a top of a white horse, his entire form shining brighter than any star he had ever seen. He knew this man, yes, but he was the last person he would have expected to see. The man – which he was not – halted his horse, faced the waiting enemies, and raised a staff in his hand high in the air. As a new wave of light emerged from the object, Rafél closed his eyes momentarily, a small smile passing his features. "Mithrandir," he whispered. "Twice be blessed your name on every shore of Arda."

Orcs screamed, trying to get away from the light now flooding the battlefield. The foul creatures rushed away, heedless for the Men and the Elves at they escaped to the night. Nazgûl seemed to hesitate for a moments, deciding if they should fight or not. Then they let out a final cry, anger seething their voices, and turned away, mounting their mounts and fleeing to the forest. The shadows retreated after the Nine, vanishing to the night.

Blinking himself out of the haze that had fallen upon them all as the White Rider appeared, Rafél turned away from the Wizard's form. Sudden, terrible fear assaulted his mind, his mind recalling his earlier task. _Legolas…_ Lunging forward without hesitation, Rafél pushed past the fleeing Orcs. He did not have to see where he was going: he was well aware of the location of his destination. His _fëa_ shuddered in cold pain, guiding him forward steadily.

The guardian did not slow down as he was freed from the swarming sea of the retreating enemies. His eyes immediately fell upon the unmoving figure on the ground, the rest of the world falling away. Rushing at the other Elf's side, Rafél kneeled to the stamped grass, his hands ever so carefully reaching for the being next to him. "Legolas?" he whispered, his own voice strange in his ears. _He cannot be…_ He saw the wound, clearly torn through the clothing and skin. There was no blood, but that did little to solace him. He knew that any blade Nazgûl bore was a dangerous one, and ones like this… "Legolas?" he asked again, with more force this time, his hand caressing the pale forehead. _He is so cold. So still. So awfully still…_

Forcing himself out of his maddening thoughts, Rafél swallowed and closed his eyes, his fingers pressing against Legolas' skin. Long seconds passed, agonisingly long. _There!_ He felt it, a small fire of life. Legolas' _fëa_ embraced his, weak but bright as it sought strength from him. Opening his eyes, Rafél reached for the Elf before him and inched closer. "You will make it," he whispered, trying to ignore the darkness that was slowly taking over the natural light of the Elf that he had grown to love more than a brother. _Don't give up. You haven't come all this way to die like this_, Rafél prayed, trying to join his own _fëa_'s power to Legolas'. But the shadow seemed to grow stronger, both inside and around them, and soon Rafél did not even try to pretend that he could save either of them. For if Legolas would die, so would he.

Slowly the light in the air faded, gathering to the staff in the Wizard's hand, shining around the cloaked form for a while longer before subsiding. The white horse under the Istari snorted, pricking his ears as several voices called out, terror finally gone from the minds of defenders.

"Gandalf!" called out several Men, raising their swords in respect. "Mithrandir!" others shouted, tears of joy and relief in many eyes.

The Wizard did not halt to greet the Men, but guided his mount forward, stopping the great horse as he reached a place further from the lines of Men. "Rest now, Shadowfax. For a moment, we shall remain here," Gandalf whispered soothingly at the horse, sliding his hand along the strong white neck. He dismounted and turned, his clear blue eyes scanning the field, trying to decide where to start from. Then he noticed the kneeling Elf – and the one lying beside him on the ground – some two dozen yards away from him, and dismissing the fear raising in his chest, Gandalf strode towards the couple.

Some distance away from the Wizard, Aragorn blinked, his heart still beating maddeningly in his chest. "Gandalf…" he whispered, trying to get up to follow the older man, but found his legs unable to support his weight.

"Aragorn!" came a call from behind the King, and a moment later two set of hands pushed him back down, pair of identical faces appearing in front of him. "By the Valar Estel, be still!" Elladan commanded, inspecting Aragorn's shoulder.

Only then did the Man remember the blade still embedded to his flesh, and he flinched in the returning pain. "It is nothing. I must –"

"Stay nice and still," Elrohir ended helpfully, his strong fingers keeping the Man securely in place.

"Don't let him move," joined a new voice, Glorfindel stepping to the trio. "It is all the way through," he muttered, running careful fingers over the blade.

"You should count yourself lucky," Elrohir continued, trying to draw Aragorn's attention. "It is an Elven blade, so the cut should be nice and clean. If it would have been a weapon of Orcs, you would be in a lot more trouble."

"Is that meant to make me feel better?" Aragorn cursed between gritted teeth while Glorfindel tested the blade. It seemed to be solidly stuck, which meant the King of Men would be forced to endure a great amount of pain in a near future. "Just take it –" Aragorn began, but then halted, his eyes spotting Gandalf moving across the line of his vision. As the Man's own eyes took a path before the old Wizard, he found the other's destination: some distance before Gandalf, Rafél was kneeling on the ground, more Elves gathering up to that place. On their feet lay an unmoving form, pale skin glowing faintly in the darkness. Struggling yet again to get on to his feet, Aragorn's mind was filled with numerous horrible thoughts.

"Please, Aragorn, you must stay still!" Glorfindel exclaimed, his hands pushing the Man back down.

"We must take the knife off before it makes any more harm," Elladan pressed, and after Aragorn had calmed slightly, he turned his grey eyes to see what the Man had been looking. He understood immediately, his own hand upon Aragorn's arm tightening in compassion. "He has to be alright…" he muttered.

Elrohir raised his head, frowning, and then spotted the fallen Prince. "Elbereth…" he swallowed. "He is so still…"

"Stop it, both of you!" Glorfindel snapped. "We must take care of Estel first. Now, keep him still. Let's get this over and done." With that, he took a firm hold of the hilt of the blade, and slid it free with a swift yank.

Aragorn's body jolted in pain, a cry of pain almost escaping his tightly closed lips. He took a long breathe of air, shaking his head as dizziness threatened to overcome him. He felt someone press against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Slowly he dared to open his eyes, wondering when he had closed them, and saw the bloodied knife on the ground. The sight of it brought memories to his head, the latest event playing in his head yet again: Angmar embedding his dark knife into Legolas' body, the Elf's scream cutting through the air as the weapon was forced deeper... He shuddered despite himself, anger and self-hatred blooming in him. His hands fisted in a grass beneath him, almost to a brink of pain.

"Aragorn!" came a rough, breathless voice from behind the group of Rivendell Elves. A moment later Gimli pushed at the Man's side, ignoring perfectly the looks he gained from the Twins and Glorfindel. "Are you all right, lad?" the Dwarf asked anxiously, his eyes running over Aragorn's weary, bloodied form.

"I am well, master Dwarf," Aragorn said quietly, his eyes again searching the ring gathered around his fallen friend. Lórien Elves were coming towards them, their faces grave, and a pang of fear twisted itself in the Man's heart. Gimli also glanced at the same direction with Aragorn, his entire posture changing in a moment. _Perhaps he came to check me first, but his true worry lies with Legolas_, Aragorn thought, putting a steady hand upon the Dwarf's shoulder. "You know his strength. And he would not dare to risk his life in a fear of your retribution," the King added with an uneven voice, pain and fear for their friend making speaking difficult.

"Elves are known to do very foolish things, especially this one…" Gimli murmured, shifting to get a better view. "Why did he not run? Why had he to play a hero again, knowing that he was in no condition to stand the shadow of the Nine? Or whatever they were." His eyes narrowed, and after a moment he grumbled something with his own tongue. "Is that truly Gandalf there? It seems that today is full of surprises: things and creatures long gone are jumping on our way without a warning," he snorted, pushing against Aragorn's hold in attempt to move forward.

"Please, stay here, master Gimli," called out a clear voice, and Haldir halted before the Dwarf, clear warning in his cool eyes.

"You tell me to stay behind when my friend has fallen and is in need of my help," Gimli spoke proudly at the taller being, sudden anger filling his voice. He had held his temper in check ever since he had seen Legolas stricken down, but his patience was swiftly reaching its limits.

"All help that Prince Legolas needs is now with him," Haldir retorted, but whatever frustration had been in his voice was suddenly gone, pained flash crossing his grey eyes. "There are other tasks to be done," he continued with a sigh, throwing a quick glance at his companions to ensure they were indeed there.

Khai and Ithika were both staring at the direction of Legolas, hatred and worry visible on their fair faces. "We should have stayed with the others…" Khai whispered, bowing her head.

"Mithrandir commanded us to take care of the wounded," Ithika said softly to his sister, though his voice was not controlled enough to shadow the disappointment in him.

"Stop, two of you," Glorfindel spoke, standing up as he finished his work with Aragorn's wound. "Many have fallen tonight, and there are many to tend – even from our previous battle." The Noldo gave Aragorn's uninjured shoulder a soft squeeze. "As Aragorn cannot do much for our wounded, we must help him. Legolas is in good hands. All we can do is to pray for him."

"It is easy for you to say, isn't it?" Orophin said suddenly, his eyes burning. "You haven't seen him, pale and unmoving, fading away before your very eyes." Haldir turned to his brother, but Orophin sent his elder sibling a look that stopped the Marchwarden to his tracks. "There is no blood, but evil flows all around him, almost like a visible layer. It did not move back when Mithrandir arrived, instead hissing its challenge."

"But he is still alive, is he not?" Glorfindel demanded calmly, yet he was now paler than a moment ago.

"He _was_, when we left his side," Orophin answered.

All eyes turned back to the group gathered on the field, fear taking a tight grip in all of them. Gimli's hand stole to the jewel around his neck, his fingers curling about it. "He is fighting," he murmured. "He will live. He has to."

**

* * *

**

At the very moment when Gandalf reached Rafél's side, he knew their time was limited. His senses corrected him where his sight left him: the evil radiating within and without the young Elf's body was so immense that it pained even him. It floated around the comatose body, all the time seeking ways to get in and corrupt more of the already weakened _fëa_. But it was stopped again by the silent Guardian at the Prince's side, Rafél's battle drawing him to his limits.

More Elves gathered around the three, but Gandalf paid them no heed, instead kneeling to the ground beside Rafél, trying not to disturb the other: Rafél's attempt to keep the darkness away were possibly the only reason why Legolas was still with them. Searching the ground, the Wizard's eyes found the object he had been looking for. Carefully he extended his hand, reaching for the black hilt of a knife which had no blade anymore. His hand jolted away as if burnt, hissing sound escaping from him.

"A Morgul-blade!" Dínnor swore from his place on Legolas' other side. "This will not be easy."

"It is not merely a kind of a weapon you think it to be, Cousin," Gandalf said with slightly shaken voice, cursing beneath his breathe. He felt several pairs of eyes lock into him, only Rafél's staying closed, his mind solely upon its task to keep his Prince from slipping into the shadows. "Actually, it is a weapon few have seen. None of you, I would dare to say. I had never seen one before this day myself, but I can tell what it is."

"This sounds worse than a Morgul-blade…" Asthaldo muttered, immediately silenced by the other Elves around him.

"This is a weapon made by someone who is well taught to the ways of evil: and who has power to make such a blade. Weapons like this did not usually serve the purposes of the evil ones, so they were not used. The blade that was connected to this hilt – which is now gone – had no actual physical form. It was made of pure evil, seemingly materialised. When struck into the victim, the blade vanishes. Or shall we say, transforms into its true form."

The Elves shivered, glancing at the wound on Legolas' chest with wary eyes. "What does this blade do? It sounds effective to me," Thalión questioned with a careful voice.

"And why to use it at Legolas?" Khai asked, her voice full of terror. "It would take a lot of time and effort to make such a weapon."

"I do not know," Gandalf answered the Marchwarden, "yet. But some answers will be given to you soon. As for what the blade does," he glanced at Thalión, "it forces evil into the victim. Perfect weapon against Firstborns, indeed. But it demands much knowledge from the maker. That is why they were never used as a weapon against Elves in wars: normal ways to kill were much more simple, and yet effective."

"What is happening to him?" Haldir asked, his eyes narrowing. "I can sense nothing but evil…"

"He will turn into a wraith," Gandalf stated. "His soul will never reach Mandos, and he will be ever doomed into darkness." Silence filled the group, expressions speaking of rebellion and disbelief. "But I will not see it come to that," Gandalf declared, turning his attention at the Prince. "Not after all the way I have come shall I see one of my friends die in my hands…"

"What can we do?" Ithika asked, holding his sister still.

"Haldir, take your kinsmen to help the wounded. There is nothing you can do here. Three Cousins may stay, though there is no task I can give to you."

Haldir nodded, though reluctantly, and led the Marchwardens away from their fallen friend. Disagreeing sounds were soon silenced, and the three remaining Elves stood a small distance back, their eyes remaining on the scene before them, sharp and waiting. They knew better than to hinder the Wizard in his task, and they saw little they could do to help. But they did not wish to leave, either.

Rafél shifted, moaning under his breath. Brown eyes opened, dark and disoriented, but they fell upon the Wizard immediately, as if he had known the other to be there all the time. "Help him," he begged with a hoarse voice, sincere plea in his eyes.

"I will do all in my power," Gandalf smiled, but the expression faded as soon as it had appeared. His hands travelled over Legolas' body, his eyes closed as he focused at the darkness before him. Finally he opened his eyes, his face grave. "He has almost given up. He is too tired to fight, his mind too weary to go on anymore. His _fëa_ has almost diminished." Rafél bowed his head in grief, his hands refusing to let go of the body of his Prince. "But there is still hope," Gandalf continued, turning fully at Rafél. As the brown eyes met his, he said with a firm voice: "There is no time for subtleties. His time here is almost over, and we must act quickly. I can destroy this shadow, but it extends too far in him already: if I would drive it away, it would most likely rip his soul apart. Here you must aid me. Keep him from slipping to the shadows, and bring him back to light."

"How…" Rafél asked, not quite understanding.

"You know how!" Gandalf bellowed, his hand grasping the Elf's shoulder painfully. "Being his Guardian means that your bond with him is stronger that any other's. Use that bond, and your _fëa_ will show you the way. Now hurry, or we shall lose him," the Wizard said with an adamant voice, releasing Rafél from his hold that did not by its strength quite fit into a form of an old man.

With a deep, steadying breath, Rafél turned back to Legolas. He moved himself so Legolas' head rested in his lap, his right hand settling upon the icy cold forehead. His left hand sought Legolas', lacing their fingers together. He was not quite sure what he was doing, for normal healing ways could not compare with what Gandalf asked him to do. But he was adamant to save Legolas, and it seemed that some subconscious part in him knew what he should do. Closing his eyes, he delved deeper to the darkness, his _fëa_ hunting Legolas' through the mist of evil. Their lights embraced when they met, familiar tingling sensation sweeping through Rafél's body. This he knew, and had grown used to during their long years together: this was the connection they shared. A secret, silent way to communicate, which formed between Elves who grew exceptionally close to each other.

But instead of staying as he was, Rafél guided himself deeper, trying not to think that he had never before dared to intrude into Legolas' soul and mind like this. They both had their privacy, and he felt like violating some unwritten rule. Yet he had to go as deep as possible to draw Legolas into light – or else they would both perish when Gandalf attacked the darkness.

His _fëa_ melded together with Legolas', giving Rafél more access in the darkness. For dark it was, all around him, the wordless whisper of shadows filling his ears. Cold seemed to assault his body, even if he told himself not to care: it was not real. Only a trick which the shadows played with his mind. The only part that was real was the evil in Legolas, and through their bond he was beginning to feel more and more darkness floating towards him. It seemed impossible that so much malice could be in one weapon, but then his mind concluded a shocking truth: Legolas had borne a great amount of darkness in him for some time. Rafél maybe hadn't noticed anything back then, but yet he knew it had been there. Waiting. For how long, he could only guess. But as memories filled his head, terror crept into his mind. How deep had this evil extended its roots? How long had he closed his eyes from the truth?

A sudden yank pulled Rafél's _fëa_ deeper, forcing his thoughts back to the present. But something was happening around him, even if he couldn't see it. He felt it, something taking shape around him, but when he tried to reach for it, it was not there. And then he heard something, as if a small child crying. He turned his mind towards the sound, confused, and then everything vanished around him.

_His vision returned as fast as he had lost all knowledge of his surroundings. He blinked, dazed, and saw that he was somewhere, now. Burned forest spread around him, white mist hiding the ground from view. Corpses of trees stood silent, dead, ash covering the soil. The air did not smell of burned wood, which meant that these trees had been like this for a long time. Shadows mingled around the mist, creating a black background to everything, as if the forest would have ended into darkness around him, some dozen yards everywhere around him._ What is this? _Rafél wondered, reaching out to touch the bark of a nearest tree. But before his fingers touched the surface, he heard a sound again, and drew his hand back alarmed. _

_Someone was crying, but it was no more a sound of a child. That someone sounded to be very frightened, and in pain. Hesitating only momentarily, Rafél ran forward, trying to avoid the sticking roots on the ground. Shadows drew back slightly, presenting more forest as he went forward, closing up behind him as he passed on. He had to search only a moment before he found what he was looking for. He halted with a jerk, his eyes falling wide with shock, and yet it all started to make a perfect sense. _

_Before Rafél, kneeling on the dead ground, was an Elf, his naked body shaking both in fear and pain. As the broken sobs ended, the Elf turned his head, blue eyes widening in surprise. He hadn't expected for anyone to come – none had come before. "Rafél?" he asked with a small voice, swallowing slowly. Tears were still streaming from his eyes, forming tiny rivers down his face. _

_ "It is all right," Rafél hushed, walking to the other and kneeling at his side. "I am here, Legolas. All is well." But the youth shook his head, fear in his eyes, and shied away from him as he tried to touch the other. _

_ "You have to leave!" Legolas shouted suddenly, glancing into the darkness. "They will hurt you…" he sobbed, his eyes meeting Rafél's for a moment. _

_The guardian sat still, for the first time seeing genuine fear in Legolas' eyes. It scared him, to see the other so vulnerable. And yet… this was only a dream of some sort. A dream that the shadows had locked Legolas in. "I will not leave you," he promised with a calm voice, reaching out with his right hand. Legolas hesitated, staring at his hand, then at his face, but it seemed that he had chosen the right words. And before he was able to say another word, Legolas cried out, throwing himself into his arms, sobs wracking his lithe body again. Wrapping his arms around the Prince, Rafél pressed his body close, trying to figure out what to do next. It seemed that he was not able to connect Legolas through their_ fëa _anymore. "I will take care of you," Rafél soothed, trying to calm the younger Elf. "I will take you away from here, but I need your help first." _

_Legolas raised his head, biting his lower lip in anguish. "There is no way out. This is… everything. This is…" _

_ "A dream," Rafél pressed. "An illusion. I have to take you back to light," he pressed on. _

_Legolas' eyes seemed to light up some, but then he looked back suddenly, his eyes widening. "He is here!" he almost screamed, but instead of trying to get away from Rafél, he pushed himself flush against the older Elf, whimpering with a small voice. _

_Rafél lifted his gaze, staring at the darkness. He did not understand. Was it possible that Legolas saw something in here that he did not? Was there something wrong with their bond… But then he also saw it, flaring slowly from the darkness, growing slowly into its full glory. Flames burned the air, setting trees in fire again, and the voice of shadows grew into a great rumble. The fire opened like a flower, revealing a lidless eye, gazing down at the Elves with all-seeing sight. _

_Rafél's heart missed a beat, a familiar feeling filling him. Under this very shadow he has lived for so many years. And this being was destroyed from the face of Arda. "Is this what you dream of?" he suddenly asked from Legolas, understanding. "This is the nightmare you have been struggling against for so long…" _

_Legolas cried out, his fingers digging into Rafél's tunic, his face tightly pressed against the other's shoulder. "Please, make him go away. Don't let him touch me. Not again."_

In the real world, Legolas' body jolted, an agonised scream escaping from him. He trembled, screaming again, his breathe catching in his throat. The Cousins look worriedly at their Prince, not even daring to go forth and touch him. Their eyes moved to Gandalf, begging the Wizard to do something – anything – to stop their companion's pain, but the Istari sat on his place, thoughtful. "Go on, Rafél. You know what to do," Gandalf murmured with a deep voice, his eyes shining with worry.

_Rafél's arms tightened around Legolas' body, his mind resolved. He was not sure what to do, but he knew he had to drive these shadows back in order to save Legolas. Facing the eye of fire before him, he released the power within him, the light of Eldar shining from him like a new-born star. The shadows fell back, and the eye blazed, finally fading completely. _

_Legolas moved against him, turning his face to see that the enemy was gone. The shadows were slowly edging closer, building anew, but he felt as if he was able to breath for a moment. When a gentle hand caressed his head he turned back, meeting Rafél's eyes with a small smile. _

_ "See? He is gone now," Rafél said slowly, smoothing back the tangled golden hair. _

_Legolas nodded slowly, closing his eyes momentarily. "Thank you for coming for me." _

_ "You thought I wouldn't have come?" Rafél asked, slightly surprised. _

_ "It was dangerous. It still is," Legolas replied, looking at the darkness again. "It was only a beginning…" he muttered, holding tighter to Rafél. _

_ "There is no danger, evil or darkness that I would not face for you," the guardian said firmly. "No length there is that I would not travel for you, no misery I would spare myself from to see you safe and happy." _

_ "And why is that?" Legolas asked, suddenly daring himself on. This might be the last chance he had to hear the truth from his guardian… _

_ "Not because I made an oath to your father, nor because I am bound by duty," Rafél began, resting his face against Legolas'. _

_ "I know," the Prince replied softly, closing his eyes again. _

_ "But because I love you." _

_Legolas remained silent, but his hands around Rafél's neck held the other close. He felt the tears again, burning his eyes, and as much as he would have liked to hold them back, he was too exhausted to do so. But these were no evil tears, nor those of weakness. _

_ "Legolas…" Rafél said carefully, feeling the wetness between their faces. "We must –" He never finished, a dark laughter rising from the darkness. Shadows rose like walls around them, making the forest vanish into nothingness, tendrils of mist remaining floating above the ground which suddenly felt hard and icy beneath them. Cloaked figures emerged from the darkness, gleaming like ghosts in the dark. One stood before the others, entirely dark, not a single ray of dim light shining from his form. The mere feeling of him spoke of evil power, mastery of something dark. _

_ "He is mine," the foremost said, raising his hand to point at Legolas. More ghosts – or wraiths – closed up around them, leaving them surrounded. "Give up, Guardian. You cannot protect him here. Not anymore." _

_Rafél ground his teeth together and forced himself not to answer. Instead, he forced trembling Legolas to meet his eyes. "I will keep you safe, I promise," he whispered. "We have to do this together," he continued, swiftly glancing at the waiting ghosts. "Trust me," he added. _

_ "Always," Legolas smiled, his fingers mingling into Rafél's hair. They pressed close to each other, Legolas trying to draw strength from the other Elf. _

_ "Give up," the one on the front insisted, taking a step forward. _

_ "Never," Rafél answered, and then allowed all his power to release itself. It was time to see if he could save neither of them. Legolas clung onto him, still shaking with pain, but his fear seemed to be gone. With a fond kiss at the Prince's temple, Rafél leaned his face against the other's shoulder and turned his power from outside to within._

After the third scream from Legolas, the Prince suddenly calmed down. Gandalf sat up straighter, his body tense and alarmed. Then he was forced to shut his eyes, the Sindar sitting next to him blazing up with a bright light. Pure, white rays seemed to shine from within Rafél's form, making all on the field to look up in disbelief.

"What is happening?" exclaimed Pippin, who with his cousin had just reached Aragorn and his companions.

"I am not quite sure," Glorfindel answered when no other did. They all kept staring in awe, too paralysed to move on to see what was actually happening.

Gandalf merely smiled in his place, nodding in approval. He pushed the sleeves of his robe back, preparing himself, his eyes remaining on the Elf whose hold of his Prince tightened slightly as his inner light became slightly lesser, staying like that for a moment. Legolas shifted, pushing himself closer to Rafél, his brow furrowing.

Then suddenly, without a warning, Rafél's light diminished, drawing back inside in a swift rush. He still shone with inner light, in a god-like appearance, his face relaxed and yet set deep in concentration. A tremble like a wind shaking the leaves ran through him, his breath coming in swift gasps.

Legolas reacted soon after, a long moan coming from him, ending into a small cry of pain. His right hand shot up, fisting into Rafél's tunic as a desperate gesture. His entire body jolted, his head tossing restlessly from side to another, and the shadows swirled around him in anticipation.

"What is happening?" Asthaldo asked, alarmed. "Gandalf?"

"Wait," the Wizard hushed, his eyes narrowing. He leaned in, his hands hovering over Legolas' restless body. His eyes shifted at Rafél, and then he leaned back, pain flashing on his face. "We cannot do anything."

"What? You just said that you would destroy the darkness when Rafél has drawn Legolas to safety!" Asthaldo exclaimed, his eyes shining with worry.

"Rafél isn't strong enough," Dínnor murmured. "The shadows are too great for him to overcome."

"No!" Gandalf said sternly. "I do not dare to interfere, for Rafél will be able to handle the shadows within by himself, it seems. Their bond is stronger than I thought," he mused to himself, his right hand caressing his beard.

"What about the shadows without?" Thalión asked, calmer than either of his cousins. "I can see them, waiting…" the powder-blue eyes shifted, scanning the air, seeing things that no mortal eye could see.

"Those I shall take care of," Gandalf said almost gently, reaching for his staff. "Soon…" he murmured, his eyes staring at Legolas, as if waiting for something.

Legolas squirmed, as if trying to get loose of something, but his hold of his guardian did not falter for a moment. "Rafél…" he whispered with a broken, distant voice, and his body was washed with light immediately. It came from within, it seemed, growing stronger all the time, until he shone with a light almost painful to behold.

Shadows rose up from the Prince's body, falling back from him with a high, terrible shriek. They rose to the sky, swirling there like an angry cloud, ready to lay their malice back to the ground when a chance would be given. But Gandalf did not allow such a thing to happen. He jumped up from his place, raised his staff above his head, and shouted a string of foreign words with a booming voice. The shadows were washed away with a flash of the staff, and with a ragged sigh, the Wizard lowered his tool of battle and leaned on it like an old, weary man. His eyes rested upon the two Elves, anxiously waiting what would happen.

Legolas breathe stopped at the moment the shadows left his body, his body balancing on the edge for a moment. Then he settled back down with a deep sigh, some colour returning to his features even if he still was far paler than usual. He seemed relaxed, at last, the air settling down around him.

Rafél opened his eyes with a startled shout, falling to the side until Thalión caught him, holding him up as he fought for breathe. He moaned, resting his head against the offered shoulder for a moment, his eyes slowly adjusting to the waking world again. Then he shifted, realising that it was Legolas' weight leaning against him, the Prince's fingers still holding on to him, though their hold had lost the deadly grip. Fond smile crossed his features, his hand caressing the golden forehead.

"You did it," Gandalf said slowly, meeting the guardian's eyes. He smiled warmly at the Elf, nodding. "Now rest, and watch his dreams. The others shall take care of the other tasks."

Instead of disagreeing – as it would have been his wont – Rafél nodded, slowly divesting himself from Legolas' hold to allow himself to rest beside the Prince. Legolas curled against his body, the pale hands seeking their way around Rafél's neck. The guardian smiled, letting himself slip into reverie, his protege close in his embrace.

"Let them rest here," Gandalf said at the trio before him. "Shall you watch them, if I return to the others?"

"Of course, Mithrandir," Thalión smiled, bowing at the Istari as he left them to guard the sleeping ones. With a soft smile on his own, Dínnor put his cloak around the sleeping couple. Then he motioned his cousins to take their places, and so they stood around the slumbering ones as a silent sentinels.

Using his staff as a walking-stick, Gandalf made his way through the field to the other gathered group. "It seems that you haven't made it very far despite my orders, Haldir of Lórien."

"My apologies, Mithrandir," the addressed Elf bowed, somewhat shamefully. None of them had wished to leave from the sight of the fallen one, especially after Rafél's unexpected show.

"No offence taken," the Wizard said lightly, nodding at the three Men who sprang up to meet them. "Now as you are here," he said to Éomer, Faramir, and Irolas, "I would have you gather the Men, organise the tending of the wounded, and gathering of the dead."

"But –" Faramir began, halting beside his King.

"Do as he says," Aragorn smiled, looking at his fellow Men. "I am quite taken care of," he added, grimacing.

"Yes, my Lord," Faramir bowed.

"We really didn't believe it to be you, Gandalf," piped up a new voice, Pippin pushing nearer to the Wizard. The Hobbit took enough time from inspecting the Istari so he bowed at Faramir with a smile. The Man returned the gesture, also nodding at Merry when he came to his sight.

"How is Legolas?" Merry asked just as most of the group opened their mouths to ask the same question.

"He shall live," Gandalf said shortly, giving Gimli a glance. The Dwarf smiled in acknowledgement, still holding tightly the jewel in his hands. Then the Wizard turned at Aragorn, addressing the Man with a solemn look. "Much hardship has been on your journey, since the death of your beloved. I do not say that the road from this on shall be any easier, but use this moment of peace wisely: rest."

The King of Men bowed his head, sorrow passing his features. "You speak words of wisdom, truly. It is good to see you, old friend."

Gandalf nodded, resting one hand on Aragorn's shoulder as a sign of compassion. "You are not alone in your grief, but onto you it falls the hardest. My heart mourns with yours."

"Thank you," Aragorn said, not daring to say anything else.

Gandalf then turned at Faramir and Éomer, his face clearly showing his grief. "Easy has not been your journey, either, but loyally you have followed both your King and your friend. There shall be time for sorrow, when that moment is appointed."

"And may those responsible find their justice," Éomer returned with a look of grief.

Gandalf did not answer to that, but his eyes agreed with the Horsemaster.

"What are you speaking of?" Pippin asked suddenly, his youthful face extremely worried.

"You must tell us, for surely something evil has happened to make you say such words," Merry added, looking anxiously up at the Big Folk.

Men changed glances, not sure what they should say to the Hobbits. Finally it seemed to stay as Aragorn's duty to tell the ill news forward. "Arwen and Éowyn are dead," he said shortly, gaining sympathising looks from the people around.

"Dead?" Merry asked, horrified, disbelief in his eyes. "How?"

"They were murdered," Éomer continued, his voice bitter. "We have no knowledge of the person who did it – or why."

"Dead…" Pippin echoed, his eyes seeking Faramir's, tears in them. "I am sorry," he said slowly, then glanced at Aragorn. "So very sorry."

"Its not fair," whispered Merry in turn, swallowing his own tears. "There's no reason…"

"We do not know that yet," Gandalf comforted the two. "For a moment, we can do little to it. But due of time, all mysteries shall become clear."

"That is exactly what we all keep hoping for," Irolas muttered, sounding somewhat unconvinced.

"Patience, Soldier of Gondor," smiled the Wizard. "The answers do not come to us any quicker than they are meant to."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at this, but as Gandalf refused to go on, he turned back to his kinsmen. "Now go and do as Gandalf wished: gather the Men and tend the wounded. I shall leave the lead into your capable hands." Faramir and Éomer nodded, leaving with Irolas behind them.

"I will miss her," Merry said suddenly, making all who heard him to turn. "I didn't know her very well, of course, but we rode together for a while," the Hobbit continued.

"Éowyn would be greatly comforted by those words, Meriadoc," Aragorn said, settling his right hand on Merry's shoulder. "Now wipe your tears, for the living are in need of our help."

"Is that how you live with it, from a day to another? Thinking about the ones who live?" Gimli questioned as the Hobbits were out from the range of hearing, returning to their village to help the Men.

"We all have our own ways to handle grief, master Dwarf," Aragorn shrugged, his eyes scanning over place where Legolas was now resting.

"Aye," Gimli agreed to this, but did not turn his gaze from the Man. "You could use some rest, lad."

"Excellent idea," Elladan said before Aragorn had a chance to reply. "We shall handle the situation well enough without you. Rest is what your body craves for, and your mind will be sharper after some sleep."

"And a sharp mind is what we need to solve all the riddles Gandalf is about to set before us, I wager," Elrohir added, giving the Wizard a cheeky grin.

Gandalf merely snorted, motioning Aragorn to follow him.

"Do you think we should scout for the enemies?" asked Ithika, staring at the slowly lighting up forest. Dawn was still some hours away, and the world would remain dark for a good while still. The Elves around the Marchwarden nodded, thinking it would be necessary to search out the enemies and watch their movements.

"If you wish to humour yourselves, or put your mind at ease, you may do so," the Wizard answered, looking back himself. "But the deeds of the enemy are done here, and they shall not return."

"Shall we trust in that?" Rúmil asked.

"Mithrandir's words do not usually go wrong," Haldir replied.

"We would do better while helping the wounded," Glorfindel agreed.

"That is settled, then. There is enough time to scout later, for Orcs have never bothered to hide their tracks," Haldir said, picking up his weapons as he made his way after the distancing King and Istari.

"But in the end, is it the Orcs that we should worry about?" Elladan mused, giving the forest a one, final dark look.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Here we are again, at the end of a chapter. I wish this was enjoyable, and took away some of your worries – for a time.

For those who wonder – if any – Gandalf of course knows the Cousins, as well as all the Elves of Lothlórien who are now involved on this little trip. They have all travelled long in Middle-earth, and as Gandalf spent many years among the Elves – both in light of Lórien and in the shadows of Mirkwood – he most likely knows at least Cousin personally. Perhaps we shall get more information to that in the earlier stories of the series, when I get that far.

At this point I would advice you to take a look at my other fics (if you haven't already), "Influence", "Prince of Dol Guldur" and "Loyalty to Blood" especially. They are slowly beginning to be important for this story. Not that it matters greatly if you haven't read the other stories 'published' (so far) from "The Journey" –series: it just gives you more information. But you have still time to do that, before the plot moves into a point that indicates directly at those stories.

Until the next chapter!


	31. Chapter 29: Answers and Questions

**Chapter 29: Answers and Questions**

New morning broke through the darkness of the night, colouring the wall of clouds golden in the light of the rising sun. Such mornings were divine to behold, quiet in their serenity, and Gandalf allowed himself a moment to take in the beauty of a new day on Middle-earth. He had missed this, during his years on the shores of Valinor. Many would have wondered such a feeling, but he had fallen in love to this land from the first day he had set his foot on its shore. And later, his love had extended to the people living here. Small or tall, they all had a special place in his heart.

Nearby shouts woke him from his thoughts, calling the ancient mind back to the present. Turning his head wearily, Gandalf looked at the commotion about him. It was completely unnatural to have an entire village of Hobbits up and about at this hour. But this day – or the ones before – had not been easy for the small folk. Unused to battles, warriors, and wounded, they were running back and forth almost mindlessly, trying to busy themselves with whatever work possible.

"They are a kind folk. Slightly ignorant, perhaps, but absolutely kind-hearted," stated a voice, tired yet musical.

Gandalf nodded, turning to look at the Eldar next to him. "How are our patients?" he asked, knowing the other was well aware of whom he meant. "Your cousins are still keeping an eye on them, I assume," he added, fishing his pipe from his pocket. As he found no leaves to fill it with, he gave it one mournful look and pushed it back to its pouch.

Thalión watched this unconscious movement with interest, and then nodded, noticing that he had the Wizard's full attention again. "Dínnor and Asthaldo remained with them. We moved them both into one of the houses of Hobbits, thinking it was far better place for them to rest." Gandalf raised an eyebrow at this, making Thalión chuckle softly. "The Hobbits insisted it to be done. It seems that they are not used into sleeping under the open sky. Though I am sure that Merry has got his share of it…"

"Enough to tell you to take those two indoors," Gandalf laughed. "How do they fare?"

"Good, by my observation. Legolas looks much better, and Rafél actually woke up when we were about to move them into the house. He did not put up with the idea that we would carry him as well."

"How very surprising…" the Wizard mused, and then laughed. "Things shall be normalised soon – as much as possible." He fell silent, watching the folk pass by them; Hobbits, Men, and sometimes an Elf. All absorbed into their work, a routine by far to most of them. "Soon we have taken care of the wounded, and people shall go to rest."

"You are not going to do so?" Thalión enquired, assuming as much.

"No," Gandalf sighed, shaking his head. "Put a word around – you know to whom. I have a need for a quick debate before we move on. And make sure that Samwise shall be present as well. There is something I need him to do."

_He has a plan if he has thought about moving on already. But you can do better than try to guess a mind of a Wizard_, Thalión decided. "When and where?"

"At noon, on the Party Field. That should be suitable enough. If not – we have a lot of people who will soon try to seek a place to sleep – we shall simply find another place," Gandalf said, his voice informing the Elf beside him that he was already deep in though.

Thalión smiled, bowed, and left the Istari with his musings, knowing he would learn nothing more until their meeting. He and his cousins knew Gandalf through many years, and even if they were not personal friends, they knew each other enough to show respect on both sides. _Now, then, where to start…_ the Sinda pondered, walking through the village that was already preparing to rest. The night had been long for all of them, and even his body yearned for rest. But some things came before such luxury, and if Gandalf wanted to get his debate held and be on his way, so be it.

As the Cousin passed one small house, he noticed a familiar-looking Hobbit on its porch, ready to leave from his whatever duties. Frowning, Thalión tried to remember the small creature's name, at the same time stepping forth to catch the other's attention. "Pardon me," he began, making the Hobbit bounce around in fright. "My apologies, I did not mean to startle you," he apologised quickly.

"Oh, it is all right, Sir," said the Hobbit, blushing. "They always say that we Hobbits are a silent folk, but so surely are the Elves, if you know what I mean."

Thalión laughed, noticing immediately that this Hobbit was somewhat more familiar with the Elves than most of his kin – yet very respectful, of course. "You might not be Samwise?" he asked, daring his luck.

The Hobbit bowed, looking surprised. "Indeed I am," he stammered, looking carefully at the Elf before him. "Samwise Gamgee, at your service. Might I be able to help you in some way?"

"I have something for you: an invitation, kind of," Thalión said smoothly. "Gandalf wishes you to attend a meeting, at noon on the Party Field."

"Oh," Sam muttered, frowning. "I wonder what he needs me for… But I shall come, if so requested. If you excuse me now, I have to go and check Rosie and the children." With another bow, Sam took his leave and hurried along the road to his own house. Thalión looked after him, cocking his head, and couldn't keep from smiling.

"They are interesting people, Hobbits. I find myself deeply fond of them."

"Indeed, my Lord Aragorn. But as far as I remember, you were supposed to be resting," Thalión replied, turning to meet the Man whom he had heard to approach for some time ago. Aragorn grimaced, taking a careful look around, trying to avoid moving his bound hand which rested on a sling against his chest. Thalión shared his glance, and then understood. "You escaped from the Twins of Imladris? Why, my Lord, you indeed have skills," the Cousin praised with a shake of his head.

"They were distracted by Glorfindel," Aragorn confessed. "Their wounds needed to be attended as well, and I merely…"

"Took the situation for your advantage," Thalión quipped, good-naturally. "Did you hear of the meeting?"

"I over-heard some of the discussion," the Man replied, somewhat shameful to confess that he had been eaves-dropping, even if by an accident. "Gandalf must have something important to tell us."

"Why else would he be here?" Thalión said in kind, turning to leave. He had many people to find and inform, and he was still trying to get used to the ways of the world of Hobbits.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Aragorn called out, glancing behind again as if afraid that the forces of Rivendell were already on his trail.

"Of course, my Lord. It would be my honour," Thalión laughed, noticing the look. "You can serve as a guide for me, if anyone asks," he added, walking forward with the Man at his side.

Aragorn grinned, and together they made their way through the village, one by one sending a word ahead to those of their company who should attend the meeting. They dared to go even that far that they went to see the Rivendell Elves – whose shocked expressions revealed that they had not noticed Aragorn was missing from the broken house they used as a shelter.

"You little…" Elrohir swore, throwing Aragorn a dark look. "You were supposed to rest!" he shouted accusingly, throwing his hands across his chest.

"I did, for my time," the King defended himself, just as adamantly. "And Thalión needed my help," he added.

"Oh, so it was good Thalión that kidnapped you from the back-door?" Elladan asked, half-seriously.

"From the window," Aragorn corrected.

"Ever better," Elladan replied, rolling his eyes. "I take it you feel better now?"

"You think I would be walking around if I were not?" Aragorn asked, almost shocked.

"Yes," answered all the four Elves as one, even without sharing a look. The Man muttered, glaring at Thalión.

"That is a well-known fact," the Cousin defended himself in turn. "Legolas has warned us many times that if such an occasion would take place, you must be watched at all times, personally. Or else."

Aragorn groaned, making the Elves laugh around him.

"Leave him be. He knows his limits, and as long as he keeps his hand in place, I think he can enjoy the fresh outside air," Glorfindel decided, leaving the others no room for complaints.

"Well, I shall be off. There are few things I must talk with my cousins about, and food would be a nice thing to find, as well," Thalión told the others, backing away slowly.

"In the case you haven't noticed, we are in a village of _Hobbits_. Ruined or no, it means that there is a plenty of food around," Elladan said cheerily. "Just ask someone to find it for you. Mentioning of food is always a pleasant thing for Hobbit-ears."

"I have to remember that," Thalión muttered, turning away to find his way back to the house they had been shown into. It took him only a small moment to find it, his senses guiding him back easily. The streets were almost empty now, but he indeed dared to ask one Hobbit for some food. As a result, he returned to the house with a large basket full of various comestibles.

"Oh, what a lovely sight you are!" Asthaldo saluted his elder cousin, taking the basket from him eagerly. "Though we could live with this for a week, at least."

"Hobbits have a funny way to count how much three Elves can eat during one meal," Thalión agreed, seating himself down to a soft grass beside the house. "How are Rafél and Legolas?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"They are fine, both. I haven't even tried to rouse them," Dínnor answered as he emerged from the house, looking at the food with shining eyes. "That indeed is a lunch of a warrior," he laughed. "Maybe we should wake them, after all."

"Nay, let them rest. This food will not go bad after some waiting," Thalión put in, leaning closer to the basket which was being eagerly explored by Asthaldo. His eyes swept from the food to the world around them, some of the earlier sadness returning to him. "So much is destroyed here. So many lives, so many houses… How will this folk ever survive of this?"

"They have done it before, and shall do it again," Dínnor evaluated, his eyes taking the same path over the burned grass and houses, a broken carriage on the rode opposite to them. "But let us eat, now. I at least think better with a full stomach, and some rest."

"Speaking of which, Gandalf called in a meeting at noon," Thalión remembered, taking a piece of bread from an offered piece. "He spoke of moving on."

"Someone has a plan, then," Asthaldo mused, munching a mouthful of cold bacon. "About a time, I say."

"To form a plan, you need to know something," Dínnor added, thoughtful.

"We shall hear about that soon enough," Thalión sighed. "Let's not trouble our minds with that at the moment." They agreed on that, eating in silence. As Ithika walked past them, they gave him a part of their meal, sending a word to the rest of the Elves with him. After they had finished they sat talking quietly, one of them checking their sleeping companion now and then.

As the noon drew close, Thalión rose up from his place and went to the house. He watched the slumbering couple for a while, thoughtfully musing over what he saw. Rafél's hand was carelessly thrown over Legolas' waist, the Prince's head leaning against the crook of his neck. Such display of closeness was unusual to them, speaking of something changed between them.

"They look so sweet like that," Asthaldo snickered, slipping inside and lowering the half-full basket to the floor.

"You dare to say that aloud while Rafél is awake," Thalión smiled, but he was not amused in a same way that his cousin seemed to be. The guardian indeed stirred, turning to look at them, careful not to disturb Legolas on his side. "We shall attend a meeting on the Party Field," Thalión whispered. "Shall you join us? Gandalf has something to tell us, no doubt."

Rafél seemed to ponder at that for a moment, glancing at the Prince in his arms. "He will be fine," Asthaldo said. "He will sleep, and when he wakes, he will search for us, anyway."

As Rafél still was not convinced, Thalión took a step forward, lowering a hand to the guardian's shoulder. "You go, and I will stay with him. You may tell me the news when you return."

"But –" Asthaldo began, but silenced himself, accepting his cousin's offer as an elder's wisdom.

Rafél nodded, slowly getting up from his place. As he walked to the door, he halted for a moment, throwing one, last look at his Prince.

"Go," Thalión commanded, sitting on the edge of the bed.

The guardian submitted to this, leaving the house with two other Cousins, smoothing his hair as they went. He took a piece of meat from Dínnor, smiling his thanks. He still felt a little awkward to leave Legolas alone with someone else, but he knew he also wished to hear what the Wizard had to say.

In the house, Thalión leaned against the wall, his eyes falling upon Legolas in an instant. "This is most amazing, I should say," he mused to himself, drawing the blanket more closely over the sleeping form. "But I do not say that. Instead, we shall wait and see," he smiled cryptically, caressing Legolas' hair dreamily, preparing himself to wait for the others' return, eager for news.

On the Party Field, a central place of Hobbiton, a small group gathered slowly together. Gandalf was already sitting in the shade of a tree, holding his pipe in his hand even if he had nothing to burn in it. The company of Rivendell, as well as the Men, were next to come, taking their places next to the Wizard. Aragorn dug in his pockets for a moment, soon realising that he as well had ran out of pipe weed. The King and the Wizard shared a dark look, and then settled down again to wait.

Lórien Elves arrived soon enough, Dwarves on their trail. One could have thought they came as two separate groups, or so it seemed to anyone who would have taken time to watch: neither side took notice of another, both groups drawn onto their own discussion – with their own languages. Only Gimli seemed to keep a track between both sides, eagerly glancing from the Elves to his kinsmen.

"Where are the Cousins?" Gimli demanded immediately, not bothering to sit down.

"I am sure they shall be here soon," Gandalf said peacefully, putting the empty pipe between his lips. "We are waiting for some others, as well, so you would do well to sit down and wait, master Dwarf."

Gimli grumbled, taking his place on the grass, but his eyes kept scanning the village around them. "I doubt Legolas shall attend this meeting," Aragorn spoke out, catching the Dwarf's attention immediately. "He needs to rest, and of what I have heard, he hasn't even woke up yet."

Gimli nodded, somewhat downcast, and remained silent. But all could see that he was greatly worried, and none was fool enough to ask the reason. They were all worried about Legolas' health, even if they spoke not of it. Much evil had befallen to the Elves at late, and this was just one more reason to take the ship to the West. This was also a thing that Gimli dreaded to occur, for once he had already thought it happened. That time, Legolas had remained even as most of his folk had left. But now things were different…

"What a sad look you all are! Mourning for what, I wonder. Cheer up, for we saved the Hobbits and drove the enemy away – with minimal losses, I might add," Asthaldo called out as he and his two companions appeared into the view. Rafél was silent, even if agreeing, and Dínnor rolled his eyes, yet taking his time to inspect the already gathered group.

"Here you are at last, we have been waiting for you," Elladan replied. "Did you leave Thalión behind?"

"We did," Dínnor answered shortly, settling down to the ground. He glanced at Rafél, silently telling the other to follow his example. "Legolas is still asleep, and he volunteered to stay and watch."

"Good," Gandalf said, nodding thoughtfully. His eyes sought Rafél's for a moment, welcoming the other.

"Now then, if we are all here…" Glorfindel said, looking around.

"Not yet," Gandalf stopped the Elf. "There is more to come, I hope."

"More people?" Haldir asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Hobbits," Aragorn interrupted, and nodded with his head towards a small group that was making its way towards them.

"I hope we are not late, my Lords," Sam gasped as he halted before the others, bowing hastily. "They insisted to come as well," he said to Gandalf, pointing at Merry and Pippin by his side.

"It is our right," Pippin declared, making most of those present laugh.

"Sit down, all of you, and we shall finally begin," Gandalf said sternly. Then he smiled, taking a pouch that Merry offered to him. He sniffed its contents, sighing contentedly, and filled his pipe. "My thanks, Meriadoc."

"My pleasure," Merry smiled, fishing out his own pipe.

"May I?" Aragorn asked quickly, pointing at the pouch.

"Have some of mine," Sam offered, his own pipe already lit.

When everyone was seated comfortably, some smoking and some just trying to put up with the smell, Gandalf cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "I am glad to see you all here, mostly unharmed. But the reason why I called you all together is not too light of a matter."

"As one could have guessed," Elrohir muttered.

"For months now you have fought this enemy, not knowing where they come from, who commands them, and what is their intent," the Wizard continued, blowing a ring of smoke into the air.

"But you shall surely tell us the answers to these questions," Faramir suggested anxiously.

"At some parts, I may tell you what you yearn to know. But I am much at loss, as well. I will make my way to Rivendell, to search the answers from there." Gandalf fell silent, feeling several eyes boring into him. "There is an enemy out there, who has mastered the evil creatures multiplied in the dark, hidden places of Middle-earth. Who or what this enemy is, I do not know."

"Sauron," Rafél muttered, seeming as if he really listened the discussion for the first time. He had looked daydreaming all the way since this, but now his eyes were clear and sharp, his gaze never letting go of that of the Wizard. "When you first came to this land, you were intended to fight Sauron. He was your mission. With the Fellowship, you completed your task, and were called back to Valinor. But now you have returned, for your task was not finished, as thought."

There was a long silence, battle between the Eldar and the Istari growing in length. Finally Gandalf gave in, taking the pipe from his mouth and letting his eyes rove over the people gathered around him. "I do not wish to do hasty conclusions. But the fact that this all has something to do with Sauron is fairly true, I do not deny that. How, I cannot tell you yet. I wish I shall be wiser when I reach Rivendell. My Lords had their reason to send me, even if I am not fully aware of that. Yet."

"How much time do we have?" Glorfindel pondered, drawing lines on the ground before him. "First – if we assume all these things are connected – was the murder of Queen Arwen. After that the enemy unleashed its poison among the Men, making them attack the Elves in Ithilien. At the same time, Woodland Realm was attacked and destroyed. Now the Hobbits are targeted. What shall come next? Into what are all these actions aiming at?"

"Beside to the fact that we have ran across Middle-earth for several months," Gimli spoke out. "At the moment, Gondor is open for attacks."

"And yet capable of defending itself, even without its King," Aragorn said harshly, his brow furrowed. "I was afraid of that when we left to the west, but it was a risk I had to take. Imrahil is taking care of Gondor, so there is no great danger that things might go ill. The Men have spent their anger towards the Elves by now, realising their folly. Which also proves that the whatever enemy we are facing has succeeded in its attempt to drive the Elves away from the side of Men."

"For now, it is pointless to worry over facts we do not have," Gandalf said finally. "I wish you would join me and move to Rivendell as soon as possible. I do not promise you any more accurate answers there, but I need to learn more of all this before I can make any guesses of our enemy."

"Any answers are better than this uncertainty and ignorance," Dínnor answered to all of them. People nodded, agreeing with the Elf fully.

"When have you planned to leave?" Faramir asked, calculating in his head the different possibilities.

"The day after tomorrow, if tomorrow comes too soon," the Wizard answered, gazing at the sky. "But first I must speak with you, Samwise," he added, looking down at the Hobbit.

"Me?" Sam squeaked, startled. He and his kinsmen had stayed silent, observing and listening, and he had not expected to be drawn in to the discussion itself.

"Yes," Gandalf said kindly. "There is a favour I must ask you to do for me." The Hobbit nodded, still uncertain and looking more than a little afraid. "If things turn evil – it doesn't mean they will, of course – you must take care of your people, and take them to safety. Hobbits are no warriors, and if it will ever come to that, you would be all killed. _If_ and _when_ the enemy comes back to the Shire, you must take the Hobbits somewhere you cannot be found."

"A hiding-place?" Pippin asked with a small voice.

Gandalf nodded. "There might be a hour when I cannot watch over you, my small friends, and then you must be able to take care of yourselves – alone. Sam, I give this task to you because you have seen both the might and the world of the enemy. You know what you are saving your people from, and it will give you strength to fulfil your task."

Sam nodded, his face determined. His mind was looking back at the time when he had travelled to Mordor with Frodo, no doubt, and it made him perfectly understand what Gandalf meant.

The Wizard also nodded, his face more serious than before. "Now take your rest, short as it might be. Of tomorrow, none of us knows." And so the meeting was over.

_to be continued…_


	32. Chapter 30: Love's Confessions

**Author's Note:** The song in the beginning – theme song of this chapter – is from 30 Seconds to Mars' new album called "A Beautiful Lie".

And now, to the real business… Be ready for an emotional storm!

* * *

**Chapter 30: Love's Confessions**

* * *

_**A Beautiful Lie**_

_Lie awake in bed at night  
and think about your life  
do you want to be different?  
try to let go of the truth  
the battles of your youth  
'cause this is just a game_

_It's a beautiful lie  
it's a perfect denial  
such a beautiful lie to believe in  
so beautiful, beautiful lie makes me_

_Its time to forget about the past  
to wash away what happened last  
hide behind an empty face  
don't ask too much the same  
'cause this is just a game_

_It's a beautiful lie  
it's a perfect denial  
such a beautiful lie to believe in  
so beautiful, beautiful lie makes me_

_Everyone's looking at me  
I'm running 'round in circles (plagued with)  
a quiet desperation's building higher  
I've got to remember this is just a game_

_So beautiful, beautiful  
it's a beautiful lie_

_It's a beautiful lie  
it's a perfect denial  
such a beautiful lie to believe in  
so beautiful, beautiful lie makes me_

* * *

Legolas woke up in the soft light of a late afternoon. Light curtains before a window did little to keep the sunshine outside and the warm rays extended themselves over the bed like a second blanket. Blinking sleepily, the Elf lay still for a long moment, collecting his thoughts. Normally Elves were alert and ready as soon as they woke from their sleep-like reverie, but today Legolas felt his mind take a slowest possible road to inform him of the latest events of his waking life.

Not that he greatly desired to remember anything when his mind finally arranged itself into a state that could have been called "awareness".

Turning on the bed, Legolas gazed through the window, his brow furrowed. His mind was still hazy, memories flitting through his mind like passing shadows, leaving him with no true recollection of yesterday. For surely it was yesterday, as the sun was already high on its route, and the last time he could remember had been in the middle of a night.

Several minutes followed, Legolas' mind aligning itself and its memories. His fingers ghosted over the light bandages wrapped around his chest, seeking the wound hidden beneath. It felt as if a cold blade being pushed against his skin, reminding him exactly where the cut was. It did not hurt, but he was well aware that something was wrong with him. Or had been. He was not quite sure.

Blue eyes sought the window again, gazing through the curtains to the world outside. His memories were getting clearer now, most of them making him shudder. It was not only the image of Aragorn collapsing to the ground, _his_ blade buried into the Man's body, but the cold terror of Nazgûl around him. _Yet I wasn't truly frightened. Not back then when they hunted me in Ithilien, or on the field last night… I have been afraid of them in the past, but it seems that their presence doesn't affect me in a same way as before._ Frowning, Legolas pondered this, trying to find a reasonable solution. _Maybe there was so much darkness in me after the attack of the Balrog that it made me immune to all else. But I feel better now. As if the shadows had vanished, or at least retreated._

Chewing his lip, Legolas tried to remember what had happened after he had been stabbed by the Witch-king. His memory got blurred there, as if he would have been trying to remember a dream that kept escaping his mind. He remembered terror and pain, much similar to the dreams he kept having. But this "dream" had been different. For one, it was not a dream. It had been reality – not physical, but one of his mind.

Images flashed through his mind, disoriented and with little meaning as they made no real sense. Letting out a sigh, Legolas shook his head, ready to give up. It would not matter, as it had all been in his head. No other would ever know… _Rafél._ Sudden flash of memory made him tremble, strange feeling coming over him. Rafél had been there. He had seen it all, protected him from the darkness and fought it back. Legolas was not sure what exactly the other had done, but his _fëa_ kept singing as he thought of his guardian. And there was something else… Something the other had said…

Voices carried from the outside, waking Legolas from his memories. He turned his head, listening, the voices falling down again after a moment. _Trust them to stay around_, Legolas smiled to himself. He made out the tones of the Cousins, and his senses told him that Rafél was also near. It made him feel safe, despite the dark feeling still lingering inside him.

As the Prince found no reason to stay in the bed, he got up, finding a clean set of clothes from a nearby stool. He slipped into them quickly, noticing that the wound in his chest was far less painful than he had expected. Taking a look around the rather low house – Hobbit one as it was – his eyes encountered an object on a table. His knives were resting there, sheathed and cleaned, their white handles almost gleaming in the sunlight. But what Legolas saw made his blood turn cold, the events of the last night making him look away. He left the room without a seconds look at the weapons, hoping to drop the image of Aragorn from his mind quickly as possible. Maybe he could find the Man himself and see that he was well…

Slipping out from the house to the bright afternoon air, Legolas blinked to adjust his eyes. There was little commotion on the village, the ruined buildings standing in eerie silence. As far as Legolas knew, it was never silent in a Hobbit village. The truth made his heart clench, and as much as he would have liked to go and speak with his friends, he suddenly needed to be alone. Walking away from the house, purposefully keeping himself hidden from the Elves whom he knew to be sitting on the other side of the house, he made his way along an abandoned road.

On their side, sitting in the sunshine beside the grass-roofed house, Rafél snapped out from his thoughts. His eyes went to the Cousins next to him, meeting Thalión's gaze. The Cousin nodded, his eyes shifting on the direction of the door they did not currently see. Rafél did not say a word as he rose from his place silently and made his way to the doorway. He did not look in, however, knowing that an empty bed would wait him there. It took only a moment from him to track Legolas down, the other Elf not even attempting to hide his path. Without hesitation Rafél took the same trail as his protege before him, following with practised ease.

Legolas had no idea where he was going, but as he found himself from a small river near the village, he knew this was a good place as any to solve his thoughts. Stepping onto a small bridge build over the stream, he leaned over the railing, gazing at the constantly moving currents below him. The water was clear, murmuring soothingly in his ears, making him forget the destroyed lives so close to him. Houses could be rebuilt, gardens would grow again and fields of crop would spread out as before. But the lives lost could not be restored, and even if there was no reason, Legolas felt responsible. They had come here because _he_ had insisted. Because of _his_ "vision". Maybe they had lured the enemy here, bringing them right at the innocent Hobbits…

A shift both in the air and in his heart informed Legolas that he was not alone. Lifting his head, his eyes met the deep brown of his guardian. A smile he couldn't hide curved his lips and he pushed away from the railing, waiting Rafél to join him. He expected a small rebuke about his escape, but none came, Rafél's eyes searching his with obvious relief.

"Shall I leave you alone?" Rafél asked softly.

"No," Legolas whispered in return, the other's presence driving away his dark thoughts. "Stay," he added with a sigh, looking down at the water again. "Thank you," he muttered, not sure what he was thanking the other for, but knowing he needed to do so.

Rafél almost snorted, leaning against the railing beside Legolas. His eyes did not gaze at the water, however, but at the Elf beside him. It seemed that is was harder to take his eyes away from Legolas nowadays. He did not know why, but he knew that something had changed. _Liar_, he said to himself, quickly looking away when Legolas turned to look back at him. _You know_ exactly _what is going on in your mind. Such thoughts you should have never to begin with…_

"There is something…" Legolas began, halting uncertainly. "I do not exactly remember what happened after… Witch-king's attack… But I remember you."

"I aided you back to light," Rafél confessed, his own memories clear as the running stream below them. "Gandalf told me to separate you from the darkness so he could destroy it. The evil is gone now," he added, his voice strained with forced calmness.

"Gandalf?" Legolas gasped, his eyes widening. "He has returned?" He was not able to mask the happiness in his voice, his eyes shining with a new light.

"He attends to leave for Imladris tomorrow, or the day after. He has promised to help us with this… enemy," Rafél detailed, deciding to fully inform Legolas when a time would be more appropriate.

"Good," Legolas smiled, falling back to his own thoughts. Rafél took this as a good sign, relaxing somewhat. There were several things he had to speak with Legolas, but some of them would have to wait… "You said something," Legolas said suddenly, making Rafél jump. The Prince turned to his guardian, the earlier shine of his eyes now gone, turned into a more thoughtful shade. "You said something, but I can't quite catch it. Something important. When you fought the shadows off…"

"I said a lot," Rafél confessed, not willing to go down this road. He had hoped that Legolas would not by some miracle remember what had happened in his dream, but it was a false hope. "I wouldn't have pushed so deep if it wouldn't have been Mithrandir's order…"

Legolas shook his head, frowning. "It matters not. We have always been… close." He bit his lip, trying to get hold of the words that kept escaping his mind.

"So, is that what your dreams are like?" Rafél asked, knowing it would disturb Legolas out of his thoughts.

Indeed, the Prince's head shot up, momentary alarm in his eyes. "You shouldn't have watched," he hissed, anger in his voice. "It is… not your trouble. But yes, I have seen dreams like that." Rafél let out a long breath, nodding. "And no," Legolas continued suddenly. "It was nothing like the dreams I have seen. Those keep playing the past, showing me what might happen in the future…" He fell silent, shuddering. Rafél reached towards the distraught Elf, wishing to comfort the other, but Legolas straightened suddenly, his blue eyes wide and hopeful as he looked up at Rafél. "You said you love me," he whispered, finally catching the piece of the dream he had hunted for several moments.

Rafél stood back, his expression freezing. "Of course I love you," he said carefully. "I have always loved you. From the very first moment when I held you in my arms. Commitment and love are things that no guardian can go without." It sounded reasonable enough, even in his ears.

Legolas' face fell, his eyes suddenly troubled. "I thought…" he began, but then swallowed his words, looking away. "I thought you meant something else…" he said with a small voice, his eyes watching a small stick bounce in the river. He felt like that stick, at the moment, taken by a current, helpless to do anything but wait and see, hoping that someone would pick you up before it was too late…

"What else could have I meant?" Rafél offered, his hand resting upon Legolas' shoulder for a moment. As the Prince did not reply, Rafél drew his hand back, steadying himself with an intake of breathe. "I will always love you. I could not do my task if I would not. Like a soldier loves his King, I am bond to you. Like a comrade to another."

Legolas nodded, not risking saying anything. It was as if all his hopes were ruined before his very eyes, any chances of happiness crumbling to the ground, leaving him helpless to do anything. _He does not love me. Not like I would love him…_ He knew it was not right – that it had never been meant to happen – but he couldn't help himself anymore. All he could think of was his dream and Rafél's words to him, the feeling he had thought to be there. But again, it was only his own mind that played tricks with him. A dream – nightmare – that haunted him to the waking world, making him believe that this was what he wanted. "Could you leave me now?" he asked finally, his voice calm and clear of emotions. "There are things that I need to think over. I will meet you later, I promise," he glanced at Rafél, the plea visible in his eyes.

The guardian nodded reluctantly, then turned and left the bridge. His _fëa_ did not quite agree with him, clenching his heart in anguish that he had recently known far too often. But he had to hide his feelings, for his bond to Legolas would give him away if he was not careful. _In a same way that I felt the defeat in him when he told me to leave. He couldn't mask it._ It hurt him to do this, but he knew it was the only reasonable way to act. Legolas would get over it, realise that this was only an after-effect of the shadow, making him crave for someone else's closeness…

"I do not really understand what you thought you would achieve with that," a voice suddenly snapped.

Rafél halted on his tracks, cursing his carelessness, and glanced up to the trees. His heart froze, knowing the other had probably heard every word since he arrived to Legolas: now they were both hidden by a small forest, far away enough that their voices would not carry over to the Prince.

A shape dropped from the trees, powder-blue eyes staring sternly at Rafél. There was almost hate in them, anger and frustration shining through his every word. "You cannot be this… foolish," Thalión spat, glancing quickly back at the direction of the river.

"I am not aware of what you are speaking of," Rafél said coolly, his body unconsciously shifting into a more defensive position.

Thalión let out a laugh, though the sound was far from its usual fairness. "Let's play this your way, then. But I _know_ you are more than aware of what you did back there – though I do not understand how you could hurt Legolas so, especially after all he has been through recently!"

_So he was indeed close enough to see everything_, Rafél bristled, taking it as his fault and carelessness that he hadn't kept his senses alarmed. "If you speak of comforting him with the fact that I love him…"

"Comfort…" Thalión snorted spitefully, his anger winning over his previous idea to make Rafél realise this himself. _Of course, the fact is that he knows very well what he is doing. But if all would be well, and he would accept the truth, we would not be having this conversation._ "You know you cannot suffer much longer with denying your heart like that."

Rafél did not even blink, to his credit, but his posture stoned even more than before. "I haven't –"

"_Please_, spare me!" Thalión hissed, taking a small step closer. "I am not stupid, am I? And I didn't think you to be, either. Not until now." As there was no more response than a cold glare, Thalión pushed on, taking another step. "You must understand that this is not only your erratic heart you are fighting down. It is also Legolas', and you know that as well as I. But _even_ if it would be _only_ your heart, I would wish you to act it out a little better. Elven hearts do not take treatment like this very lightly."

"What do you know of my heart – or his?" Rafél snapped, but his eyes shifted, pain in them.

"Enough to tell you this: you both need this. Have needed for long, but now it is the time to make the move. If you wish to hurt him more than any enemy ever has, you will now walk away like nothing happened. Because you know what he wanted to hear from you: the truth. But you lied to him, making it sound like a truthful litany of empty words."

"Maybe there is reason for me to mask _my_ feelings," Rafél started. The frustration of weeks was beginning to take better of him, and he knew if he would continue this little chat any longer, they would soon be vocal enough to be heard by Legolas. "Legolas is confused after all he has been through, and I cannot blame him. After what I did yesterday, it is no wonder that he clings onto me, trying to see there something that does not exist."

"I do not need you to repeat the lie you told him, as beautiful as it might sound and look," Thalión stated.

"Then what would you have me to say?"

"Maybe the actual truth. If you say it to me, it will be easier to face him, later, and correct your words," the Cousin tilted his head, waiting. He saw that Rafél was on a point of snapping, and knew the other would speak up his heart in his anger.

"The _truth_ you so long for will not lead me anywhere. Nor him! What now is affection – love even… Do you want me to show it? To him? Tell him that I care _more_ for him than I should. That my valiant loyalty and love have turned into a base feeling, and shall surely turn into something else soon. Desire perhaps? Lust?" The brown eyes blazed, anger finally leashed upon the one who had provoked it. Rafél knew he would regret most of his words later – he already did – but he was determined to drive his point to the other as well. "I am supposed to be his Guardian, for Valars' sake! Yes, I am supposed to love him – more than any other – and protect him, even from myself. But this is the wrong kind of love. This is how you love your mate, not your Prince! Thranduil has had people killed for lesser reasons…" he mumbled, shaking his head in self-disgust.

"This is not about the father, but about the son," Thalión replied, much more tenderly this time. "In the case you haven't noticed, Legolas returns your feelings. However confused he is, this is something he has craved for a long time –"

"His guardian lusting over him?" Rafél asked mockingly.

"It is not lust, and you know it," Thalión snapped. "I have seen lust often enough to know it. The love between you – what there could be if you would let it – is pure and strong, and has nothing to do with mere base desire. But if you go on like this, you end up hurting you both greater than you can imagine. Elven hearts have sundered for lesser reasons."

"Do not try to teach me in the matters of Elven hearts – or my own. I have guarded over Legolas' heart for years, and I have no intention to corrupt it now," Rafél said harshly, his eyes narrowing.

"You speak as he would be a child. Is that why you torment yourself so? Because in your eyes, he is still the same youth you have followed around for so long? You cannot see the grown Elf he has become, and that is why you violate your heart – not to speak of his. Because you think you would be confessing your feelings to a child? Lead him down a path that is not his to walk?" Thalión pressed on, seeing that he was at least closing up with the true obstacle. "Legolas knows what he wants from his life. But he just cannot come and take it from you," he said almost gently. "You are his senior, do not forget that. His uncertainty comes from that fact, not to let out that he has thought himself to be alone with this… feeling. And you gave him no reason to believe otherwise."

"For his own good. I am his senior, true. In so many years that he could be the grandchild of my grandchildren! Or more." Rafél drew a long breathe, his eyes locking with Thalión's. "Do not _ever_ call forth this matter with him. You may think me heartless, but I know what Legolas needs, and it isn't this." With that, he turned and left, not giving Thalión a chance to say another word.

"Heartless you might be soon enough, my friend, if you keep denying its needs like this," Thalión said under his breath, his eyes following Rafél. "I just wish that you would give in – for Legolas. Before it is too late for both of you."

Rafél heard none of this, and it wouldn't have made much to break his resolve. His own mind had accused him much worse in the recent past, even if some of Thalión's words cut down to his heart. But he was adamant not to give in to his heart, knowing it would be a false path to take. Soon, it would all roll past like an ugly season, leaving him only with a bad aftertaste.

Storming to the house they were currently settled in, Rafél scared both Dínnor and Asthaldo out of their wits. He did not halt to counsel the two, but went straight inside instead. He needed to be alone and think, clear his mind of all the poison his heart had set there recently…

"Rafél, what is the matter?" Asthaldo asked, slipping in after the guardian. "Where is Legolas?"

"Leave me be," Rafél said instead answering, his back to the others.

"But –" Asthaldo tried, taking a hesitant step forward. He was able to feel great anger in the other, but he overcame the fear with an intent to calm the other Sinda before he did anything rash.

"I told you to leave me alone!" Rafél all but shouted, turning around so quickly that Asthaldo stumbled back, collapsing against Dínnor. The guardian stared at the two, not leaving them a room to disobey, and with a shaky breath, Asthaldo turned away, Dínnor following him reluctantly. Only after the door was shut did Rafél allow himself to breath, strength leaving his body. He sat down on the bed, burying his head to his hands.

Silence was usually comforting, but at the moment it held such a malice that it made Rafél desire for any kind of a disturbance. Quiet, recently, had left him open for his inner demons, and they did not wait long to appear this time, either. "By Valar, Legolas…" he moaned, shaking his head. "What am I doing? None of these feelings belong to me." But they did, and he was no longer able to deny it. From the others, perhaps, but not from himself. _What is wrong with me? I cannot want this, or need it. Not him. I was supposed to protect him, teach him in the ways of life and make sure that he had someone to lean on when he needed it. Thranduil never requested me to love him. At least not in a way I do now._

With a shuddery breathe, Rafél glanced down at the mattress he was sitting upon. He could smell Legolas on it, the fact making his heart beat faster. He averted his eyes quickly, trying to put his mind elsewhere, but this was something he needed to solve now. _I know that Legolas is grown up. I have accepted that fact. But why is it that my feelings seemed to change when I realised he was no longer a youth?_ The change surprised him, still. His emotions towards the other had transformed so slowly it had left him oblivious for the truth – and now it was too late. He loved Legolas. He knew it was wrong in so many different ways, knew he was not allowed to, but his heart had made its decision for him. As an Elf, he had very little to say to it when it came to the matters of heart and soul – and those both yearned to love the one he was not supposed to.

Eyes locked into nothingness, his mind deep in memories, Rafél let his thoughts travel past all the years he had spent with Legolas. The small being's first breathe of air safely in his arms as Legolas was born. His first, miserable day with the reluctant youth. Their long days and countless hours on the practice-fields, honing Legolas' skills onto a brink of perfection. Patrols they had taken together, scouting their realm for any danger. There were also dark memories, ones which Rafél did not wish to bring himself to remember.

There had not been a single day after his nomination as Legolas' guardian that he had not worried for the Prince. Dark paths they had travelled, sometimes to face death and to survive again. _There has not been a day when I wouldn't have given my life for him. Even today, I would die for him without a second thought…_ He raised his head, his eyes suddenly finding the white knives lying on the table. His hand reached for one, sliding it free from its scabbard. His eyes traced the blade, but for once it brought him no memories. It revealed him a chance. An escape. _So easy to lift the blade and… life is such a fragile thing, even for us Elves_, he thought, caressing the hilt with his fingers. He saw a possibility there, a way, but yet he hesitated.

_"You both need this. Have needed for long, but now it is the time to make the move. If you wish to hurt him more than any enemy ever has, you will now walk away like nothing happened. Because you know what he wanted to hear from you: the truth. But you lied to him, making it sound like a truthful litany of empty words."_

Thalión's words cut through his thoughts, and again he was forced to look back at his discussion with Legolas. He did not wish to remember the pain on the younger Elf's appearance, the disappointment. Legolas had expected him to answer in some other way. _He only wished to hear the truth from me_, Rafél confessed to himself, and with a pained moan, he pressed his forehead against the flat side of the knife still in his hands, closing his eyes.

The guardian sat still for hours, the sun passing to the side of west. When the shadows reached for him across the bed, and the air was turning slightly chill outside, Rafél raised his head, resolve in his eyes. Slowly he put the knife back to its scabbard, sliding his fingers across the smooth surface one more time. Then he stepped out to the late evening air, his mind finally made. The only thing he hoped for was that is was the right decision to do. If not, both he and Legolas would end up severely hurt…

**

* * *

**

Back on the river, some hours ago, in the warm light of the afternoon sun, Legolas leaned against the railing of the bridge with a distant look. He did not feel the warmth of the sun, the cold in him increasing its hold with every passing second. He had planned to go after Rafél for long minutes now, but he was not able to get himself on the move. He felt broken, alone, and deserted. Two latter feelings were probably the same, but to him they meant two different things.

He wished Rafél would come back, even if just to be with him. Right now, he felt more isolated than ever in his life. He was frightened, the dark feeling inside him growing constantly, feeding upon his sorrow. It was like a dark wave, trying to engulf him whole. And what made him fear most was the fact that he was not sure if he wanted to hold on anymore.

On the other hand, he wanted to be alone. If he would be forced to face Rafél again, he would surely blurt out something he would later regret. There were so many things he needed to say to his guardian, knowing that it might be too late if he did not act out now. But a greater part of him was afraid, still uncertain what he was _truly_ feeling. What if this all was a dream? Even as his mind was free of shadows momentarily, it did not mean that this entire idea was some twisted, untrue nightmare…

Sighing, Legolas pushed away from the railing, deciding that he did not want to be alone, but not in Rafél's company, either – not before he was certain of his own heart. But there were plenty of people for him so seek out, and so he returned to the village, preparing himself for a search. He did not have to seek long, though, before he saw a familiar group on a small backyard. "Aragorn!" he called out, making the dark Man turn around in surprise.

"Legolas," the King smiled, grasping Legolas' shoulder with his unbound hand. "I am so glad to see you awake. How do you fare?"

"Well, thank you. How about yourself?" Legolas asked in turn, eyeing the Man up and down carefully.

"Those two said that I was lucky to have your blade instead of one of Orcs," Aragorn laughed, tilting his head to the direction of Twins nearby. Both Elladan and Elrohir grinned, snickering as if to some inside joke.

"Right…" Legolas muttered, his spirits falling. What had surely been a joke among the others did not make him even smile. Quite the contrary.

"Do not look so solemn, Las," said a gruff voice from Legolas' side. "We are all more than happy to see you on your own two feet, and Aragorn is faring well enough."

Legolas did not look to his Dwarven friend as he lowered his hand to the other's shoulder. "And I assume you are well?" he asked without looking, the necklace around his throat flashing warmly.

"That is why I wear an armour: to keep myself from harm," Gimli stated, but it was left unnoticed by none that his comment was far more kinder than usually while his banter with the Elf.

If Legolas noticed this, he did leave it to its own grace. "Maybe that layer of metal keeps the _harm_ away from you, but it cannot by all means keep _you_ from it." He finally glanced down, flashing the bearded creature an innocent smile.

"He is fine all right…" Gimli growled good-naturedly. "Now what say you, but I am starving. Surely it would be a high time for a proper supper. Let's search out those two Hobbits of ours and do something to feed our empty stomachs!" The Elves and one Man laughed, but left with Gimli nevertheless. They all were indeed hungry, even if they hadn't noticed it before now. As they passed a nearby house, Gimli halted to its front and yelled to someone inside. The words were not on the Common tongue, but the others understood soon enough when two other Dwarves appeared.

"Good to see you up again," Adír welcomed Legolas.

Fundal cried out "Star-eye!" as soon as he saw Legolas, falling silent as soon as he realised what he had said. The youth blushed and mumbled something to himself, his eyes finding something unusually interesting on his boots. People looked surprised around him, but none admonished him. Legolas himself smiled, well remembering the nickname the youth had come up with – so Gimli said. Nowadays, many of the Durin's kind called him so, at least in private. Fundal seemed to think it childish, but he probably did not realise how honoured Legolas was by this name.

As the group stood there, a couple of Men reached them, their eyes widening in amazement as they encountered Legolas. "My King," Faramir greeted Aragorn hastily, then turned back to Legolas with a relieved expression. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, my Lord. We were all afraid for your life."

"There was no reason to worry so," Legolas said lightly. "In such a company as this, I am nowhere near a danger of death."

"I wish that would be truth," Éomer replied, taking his place beside Aragorn as they began to walk towards a small, private square they had dined and gathered on except during their meeting with Gandalf. "We have spoken to Men and made the preparations of departure. We should be able to leave at tomorrow morning," he counted.

"Gandalf will be very pleased," Aragorn said, glad himself. Though he shouldn't have been surprised: all his Men were warriors and knew how to move quickly around, from one place to another.

"We left Irolas to watch over the rest of the proceedings," Faramir told. "After a good night's rest, we shall be able to ride swiftly."

Aragorn nodded, in his thoughts already. Now that Legolas was well, they would leave as soon as possible. Gandalf would set the pace, but he had a feeling it would not be a kind one to either men or horses. But it couldn't be helped, and Gandalf alone was aware of the possible danger the Middle-earth was in.

A group of Elves came across the party, one of them rushing forward as soon as they were in sight. "Legolas!" Khai cried out, throwing herself to her friend's arms, hugging the Prince tight. "By Valar, we were so afraid for you."

"It is all right. I am fine," Legolas told the female, returning the embrace with a small smile on his own. "Would you join us for the supper?" he indicated at the group of Lórien Elves gathering closer.

"Of course, but there is something we need to check first," Haldir said quickly, clasping hands with Legolas.

"Is ought… wrong?" Legolas was about to ask, but then felt the disturbance in the air himself.

"I think someone is having a bad day," Ithika guessed, his words making sense only to the Elves. The mortals looked around, dumbfounded. They did not see or hear anything alarming, but surely the Elves were positive that something was wrong.

The Elves moved forward as one, leaving the others no choice but to follow. It took only short time before they all saw what this all was about. The Cousins were standing on a street, the air around them tense. Even the mortals could feel it now, when connected to the sight of the Elves.

"Ah, we got company," Asthaldo muttered, clearly unhappy with the situation. "Do not get me wrong: it is nice to see you, but this is not a best possible moment for it."

"What is wrong?" Elladan requested, looking from one Cousin to another.

"Thalión is…" Dínnor began, not sure how to end the sentence.

"Being annoying," Asthaldo ended for his elder. "His is furious about something, but won't tell us the reason."

"You haven't yet seen me furious," Thalión snapped, but then turned to Legolas, and all his anger seemed to be washed away. "Legolas, well met. Good to see you are still up and about."

"See that?" Asthaldo muttered, leaning closer to Dínnor.

"Yes," the elder replied. "Complete calmness in a fraction of a moment."

"Wonder why is that…"

"Legolas."

"I know. But why is that?"

"Maybe the things are connected –"

"Please, you two!" Thalión sighed back to his Cousins. "Do not be childish. I am quite fine, and you know it."

"He is fine," Asthaldo repeated to Dínnor, making them both grimace. Thalión groaned, pressing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"Would you join us for a supper?" Elrohir asked quickly, wishing to have this strange discussion over and done.

"Certainly," Thalión answered, his two other relatives to busy with whispering to each other. "Food sounds great, even if we ate only a half day ago."

"Half day…" Gimli muttered. "Completely unnatural. But fortunately we are now in a village of Hobbits: they might be able to teach you some proper eating-manners." Legolas gave out a partially smothered laugh, making the Dwarf look up at him with a dark look.

"Fine, food," Legolas calmed the situation with a nod of his head, and together they all walked forward. When they reached the square they were looking for, three sides of it lined up with thick forest, they met Gandalf speaking with Glorfindel, Merry and Pippin leaning against a boulder, smoking. Food has been set out, as if waiting for them to come and seize it.

The Wizard looked up from his place, his eyes lighting up. "Legolas, it is great ease for my heart to see you up. It was not my intention to come that late."

"No harm done," the Prince smiled, though many around him snorted in disapproval. "It is well to see you as well, Mithrandir. I, for one, did not expect you to return."

"Neither did I when I sailed out from the Grey Havens," Gandalf said, his eyes growing darker. "But many things have hanged since my departure. Days grow darker, and the evil increases its hold… But let us not talk of such gloomy things on this fine day! Sit down and enjoy each others' good company. The food is excellent, too."

The company sat down, taking their places, and went for the food eagerly. None of them knew when they would have a decent supper next time. "The Men are ready to leave tomorrow morning," Aragorn informed the Istari, making the elder look up at him from his thoughts.

"Good," Gandalf said, sounding somewhat absentminded. "Very good indeed." None bothered him after that, wishing that leaving the Wizard alone would mean answers for them in some near future.

"You seem to fare well, after that horrible night…" Pippin called out, catching Legolas' attention.

"Yes, thank you," Legolas' smiled to the Hobbit gently. "I will be fine. But tell me, how do your people manage? This has been terrible time for them with no doubt."

"We are taking all this quite well," Merry said slowly. "The three of us, I mean, who went with the Fellowship. We are used to death and destruction, though not in our home and on this degree, of course." The small being was silent for a moment, gazing at the part of the village visible to them. "But our people will forget this soon. They will write great books of history about this, go back to their normal lives and just… forget. But Sam will make sure that we are protected now. He couldn't make for the supper, though, for he is with his family at the moment."

"We sent him away to Rosie and the children," Pippin chorused with a happy smile. "He has been around too much lately, and the family needs its father. They all love Sam very much, and will support him through this in a way we cannot."

"He is a happy one," Legolas replied quietly, his eyes sliding away. Speaking of love was not a thing he desired for at the moment.

Thalión also seemed to notice this from his place beside Legolas, his eyes darkening somewhat. "Do not look so unhappy," the Elf chided, though there was not such a great amount of happiness in his voice than one would have expected. "The sun will shine on you as well. There is still hours left today, and then there is tomorrow, and the day after that. And thousands more to come and for you to face! It is only a matter of time when all will turn out to the best again."

Legolas blinked, looking at his silver-haired friend. He knew that the words were meant for comfort, but they only increased the hollow feeling in him. Like the shadows of late evening, they crept upon his heart, trying to suffocate him. When he realised he could no longer hold back the tears, he stood up, making the people around him jump in surprise. "I am not that hungry…" he mumbled, escaping to the forest behind him.

"What was that all about?" Gimli was first to recover, looking after his friend.

"Something I said," Thalión decided. He had not meant to hurt Legolas more, but now he saw how deeply the other had been affected by certain words…

"Then you better go an fix it!" Dínnor hissed. "There is no need to spread your bad mood around."

Thalión did not answer, his senses suddenly spotting someone else in the forest. With care, he shifted his eyes, seeing Rafél take after the younger Elf. _Maybe things are going to turn out the best in some near future, after all_, he thought happily, yet still a little awkward.

"Thalión!" Dínnor snapped, clear warning in his voice.

"Right, right," Thalión said smoothly, grabbing a piece of bread with him. "See you later," he quipped, taking after Legolas.

"What was that?" Asthaldo wondered aloud, still startled.

"Don't know, but I hope our ill-humoured relative can do something about it and soon," Dínnor snorted, leaning back against a tree unhappily.

On his side, Thalión took to the trees as soon as possible, keeping himself hidden with experience of years. He could not afford to be caught if things would go as he wished. Yet if events would go on as they currently were – which would not be a surprise at all – he would interfere to the affairs before more harm could be done. It seemed that Legolas was heading out to the river again, and as he spotted the young Prince on the water's edge, he took a good spot in the trees, disguising himself completely. When Rafél came to his view, his senses told him that something had happened in the other. "Good supper, Thalión," the Cousin whispered to himself, and tore a piece of bread to his fingers, watching the scene before him with interest.

Below, things were moving on steadily as Thalión guarded them from his place. Rafél approached his Prince quietly, alarming Legolas from his thoughts with a purposely snapped twig. Legolas turned around, tears still in his eyes, but he smiled a little despite the fact he looked as mournful as ever. "Rafél," he welcomed the other softly, regarding the elder Elf who stood some feet before him. "I wished to see you," he continued, an edge of nervousness in his voice. There was also anguish, but Rafél rather felt it through their bond than saw with his eyes. "I am sorry for the earlier. I wasn't completely in my senses –"

"Do not apologise," Rafél interrupted swiftly, his hand lifted in between them, "for it is I who should do so." The hand lowered itself, and his expression turned troubled, his eyes leaving Legolas' for a moment. With a deep sigh, the guardian gathered himself, but still refused to meet Legolas' eyes as he went on: "I have always asked truthfulness from you, for it has been a key of our… relationship. Without that there can never be trust or true friendship. Or anything else." He halted again, shifting his eyes to meet Legolas' again. "But now I have lied straight at your face. I promised myself to always stay true to you, and though I haven't been able to keep that always in the past… this was different. This lie went deeper than any of those before."

"You do not love me," Legolas said with a small voice, his eyes turning hollow. "I understand it," he continued, his gaze downcast and his form trembling slightly. "No one could love a dark, twisted creature like me. I do not deserve your effort to help me. You all have endangered your lives for me – especially you. And for what? The darkness is creeping back in me, and I start to think it never left me in the first place. Not all of it. It's something that has always been there." Halting for a moment, the Prince's haunted gaze ran over the darkening landscape, another shiver passing his body. "It is just… When Angmar welcomed me to the darkness… it feels like I really belong there, now. It would be so easy to let go, just drown away…"

"Never!" Rafél gasped in alarm, closing the distance between them. He had been afraid to stop Legolas before, wishing to learn what the Prince thought in his head. But he knew if he waited any longer, things would turn only worse. With a desperate effort to keep his protege from going on with his horrible litany, he grasped Legolas' shoulders, hoping it would aid him to keep the other silent for a while. "Never say that again!" he said harshly, making the Prince cringe at his words, his eyes still shunning his elder's. "Don't you dare to think about surrendering yourself to the darkness," Rafél continued with a hint of more gentleness, his fingers easing their grip some. "I will always be there to fight for you, when you cannot – or will not. Because I am not willing to let go of you yet." Rafél halted for a moment, considering his options. But he was not ready to back down, realising that Legolas truly needed him now. _This is it. The moment I have so dreaded. But I need to do this. For him, if not for myself. I can live with that._ "I just want to make you feel safe, Las, to see you truly smile once more…" He halted yet again. "Would you look at me?" he requested, his right hand moving up to Legolas' cheek to turn the reluctant head to his direction.

Legolas stared up to his guardian, uncertain what to do. He should deny everything that Rafél would give or promise, send him away from him before something evil would befall to the Elf he loved. For surely Rafél would be hurt if he stayed around, just like everyone else. But something in the older Sinda's eyes spoke of words still unsaid, and Legolas forced himself to wait, deciding that nothing could be worse than the cold he now felt inside.

When Legolas finally allowed their eyes meet, Rafél drew a careful breathe of air, letting his boundaries fall for once, and locking all differing thoughts aside. "Weather I allow it or not, my heart has made the decision for me," he stated quietly, guiding his _fëa_ to touch Legolas' to confirm his words. "I love you." There was a silence, both staring at each other without further reaction. Then Legolas' eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again, shivering, and Rafél knew that Legolas understood perfectly what he had meant with those words. "With all my heart and soul, now and forever, I love you. It sounds lame, but that is all I have in me to give," Rafél said quietly, feeling his Prince's _fëa_ touch his like a physical thing. Then he tilted his head, making their lips touch slowly. The kiss was not a hurried, passionate one. Rafél took it slow, knowing that this was a moment when he crossed the line. After a moment he pulled away, meeting Legolas' shining eyes.

Fighting off the tears that threatened to break free again, Legolas allowed his hands to encounter Rafél's tunic, the material soft and familiar under his touch. "You love me?" he asked with a hopeful tone. "You really…" he drew a steadying breath, not quite believing this was not only a dream in his head. "Say it again, please!"

"I love you. Only you. My heart is yours, as is my life," Rafél answered, leaning their foreheads together. After this was said, they both fell silent, but their spirits seemed to sing a song on their own. After a moment of hesitation, Legolas moved closer to him, and Rafél drew the younger Elf into his arms. The Prince's fingers pressed against his chest, feeling his every heartbeat as the golden head leaned against his shoulder. Unable to resist the temptation, Rafél allowed his hand to slide along the smooth hair, soothing away any of the fears Legolas still might had. The felt the other close his eyes, and with a small smile, the guardian held his protege.

After a time which could have been an hour, Legolas drew away slightly, his hands travelling up to Rafél's shoulders. He felt his guardian's hands circle his waist, and with a dreamy smile, Legolas nuzzled his face against Rafél's gently, feeling happier than for a long time. For once, he was not alone, and he highly doubted he would ever be if his guardian had anything to say about it.

"Shall we go back to the others?" Rafél asked finally, knowing that their absence would soon be noticed.

"Yes," Legolas gave in, flashing the other a smile. "I am still hungry, and I think I scared most of my friends by my hasty departure." He knew that several pointed glances would be directed at him when he returned, but most of all he should apologise to Thalión.

"Good. Let us go, then," Rafél decided, taking Legolas' hand into his and leading the way. The Prince followed, unwilling to lose the contact either. All the moments they could have, he would be happy to draw as long as they could. Of tomorrow he knew nothing, and by judging the latest events of their life, he did not believe a moment that no more harm would be thrown on their way.

Up in the trees, Thalión got to his feet without a sound, making his way quickly through the canopy. He knew how to move without notice, but both Rafél and Legolas were seasoned warriors and sensitive Elves. He had no intentions to be caught, even now, and so he chose the quickest way back to the place where he had left the others. As he emerged to the clearing, steadying his breath, Dínnor glanced up at him with surprise. The Hobbits nearly jumped out of their skins with startled squeaks, even in their places on the other side of the group. Thalión looked with apology at the small beings, then merely shook his head at the others: there was no time for words. "All is well," he assured, taking his seat on the ground.

After a moment of stunned silence and confused looks, a soft sound of approaching voices drew the group's attention from Thalión's strange behaviour. Soon Rafél and Legolas emerged from the forest, the younger Elf walking slightly behind his guardian, throwing a careful look at his companions.

"Sit down and take some food before the Hobbits consume it all," Gimli muttered gruffly, lighting up his pipe absently. As Hobbits, Merry and Pippin laughed at this, finding the statement thoroughly amusing. Legolas returned the Dwarf's look with a smile, glancing at Rafél before they both sat down together.

"I am glad that your mood has improved," Asthaldo said to the guardian.

Rafél merely snorted, not commenting anything further. Legolas, on the other hand, turned to look at his guardian with confusion, slowly understanding what the two might have been talking about. As his eyes shifted to Thalión, he met the other already looking at him with a secret smile. The expression faded soon after the Prince saw it, making Legolas decide that he had to speak with the Cousin soon. But at the moment he was too content to just sit where he was, filling his empty stomach. They would have plenty of time for talk later.

Small groups were beginning to form after the supper came to its end, most unexpected people engaging into discussion with each other: Faramir was welcomed into a company of Lórien Elves, giving his viewpoint at the making of a bow. Gimli sat with Aragorn, Gandalf, the Hobbits and his kinsmen, speaking of different pipe-weeds and smoking. Éomer was speaking with Glorfindel, horses rising up in their talk now and then. The Cousins were again siding with the Twins, and soon Legolas noticed that he sat alone with Rafél. He listened to the various voices around them. He did not feel like entering any of the debates, however. Instead, he leaned towards Rafél, tilting his head slightly. "Would you walk with me? The evening is fair, and I haven't had a chance to see this land before. If we are about to move on tomorrow, this is as good time as any to take a small look around."

Rafél nodded, rose silently and turned to the forest with Legolas standing at his side. They made their way from the others in silence, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the darkening day on its fullest. There were no words needed, either, both of them enjoying the silent companionship too much to break it. The nature sang around them, its song far different from the other places they had visited. Yet it welcomed the Elves, the trees swaying their limbs at their direction as they passed, caressing their cheeks with soft leaves.

They reached the river and crossed it, walking further away from the houses of Hobbiton, stopping now and then to watch a sudden bed of flowers, or a beautiful form of twined trees. This was something the Elves never grew tired of: their bonds to nature were different from all the other races, and being both Sindar blood, their connection to Arda was strong. After living so many years in shadows of Mirkwood, any life was precious to them, no matter how small or tall.

As the sun began to sink onto the horizon, making the sky shine in colours of red and orange, Legolas halted under a canopy of trees, his eyes never leaving the bright source of light. Finally the last rays were swallowed by the clouds and the night descended, bringing its own, more distant light with it. Stars appeared to the sky above them, shining down with everlasting love and fondness.

But as the darkness surrounded them, consuming the world like a shadow, Legolas found little comfort in the distant light of the stars. He had always loved to sit outside at night, just silently staring up to the nothingness, or sing to the light above. Still it had been different for some time: ever since the attack of Balrog, he had fought to gather his senses. And when he finally had succeeded in that and had found joy in the song of Iluvatar again, he had been forced to look at the _palatír_, and all had changed. The dreams had begun, and the day had lost its shine while the night became a bitter enemy of darkness. He had hoped it all to be over now, but deep inside he knew that the battle had just begun…

Rafél saw Legolas shudder, the Prince's face distant and almost fearful. He took a step closer, reaching out with his hand, but then decided against it, lowering it back to his side. "Are you in pain?" he asked worriedly, hoping that he would be able to offer the other the comfort needed.

Legolas actually smiled, but this time it had no warmth in it, no true happiness. "No, not yet. The pain comes… later." He halted, drawing a long breath to steady his shaking voice. As Rafél reached out with his _fëa_ to encourage him, Legolas looked sideways to the other, his eyes flashing in the darkness. "Its starts with darkness, and gradually turns into pain. But the dreams have to come first…" His voice turned distant again, his eyes out of focus.

Rafél weighed his options for a moment, but then decided against his hesitation, knowing that he had waited long enough. "I have seen a part of your dreams, but still there are some things I do not understand… This all began after your vision." He noticed Legolas jerk involuntary, and knew he had hit the spot. This "vision" was the source of all his protege's misery. "You were never one to foresee things, so tell me about this… vision. Was it a dream?"

Legolas swallowed nervously, taking a step back. He had not told to any of the true nature of his vision, and he had no intention to. But there was something in Rafél's tone that told him the other would not back off. "I cannot tell you…" he finally sputtered out, sounding like a child in the aftermath of a nightmare.

Rafél noticed this, and closed the distance between them, grasping Legolas' shoulders to prevent the other from escaping. Locking their eyes together, he held Legolas for a moment, and then made his move. "Tell me something, truthfully. Do you love me?"

Legolas' eyes grew even wider, confusion in them. "Of course," he said with a small voice. "But –"

"If you love me, you must tell me this. A time ago you promised me that you would allow me to fulfil my task as your guardian. I haven't maybe done that as I should – after that or back in the past – but you haven't made it easy, either." Legolas bowed his head in shame, saying nothing. Rafél sighed, his grip loosing its angry strength. "If you love me, you will have to let me love you back. And that means you must let me protect you." He waited for a moment, letting the words sink in. "If I do not know the danger, how am I supposed to –"

"You always say that!" Legolas finally snapped, his head shooting back up. "But how am I supposed to tell you something I do not know myself? The reason why I never told you – or anyone else – a single thing was that I had to solve the riddles in my own mind at first. But I am not past the first when the seconds appears, and I have no answers…" Legolas knew he was sobbing by then, but at the moment he did not care. Rafél had seen the worse of him, and he had no strength left to fight the desperation that was welling up in him. He felt defeated, crushed, and at the moment he just wanted to sink down and let go. "I love you and I don't want to lose you. But I cannot tell you something I am not sure about. I do not want this darkness to hurt you if I misjudge it and tell you something –"

"Legolas," Rafél interrupted the younger Elf gently but determinedly. "If you love me, you _will_ tell me. You must trust me to trust you. And you know something to begin with. Even if it would have never crossed your stubborn mind, you are not alone with your secrets once you share them, and then you have others to help you to solve then out."

Legolas nodded slowly, sniffing. He stood silent for a long moment, but before Rafél went on, he lifted his head, gazing at the darkness. "It was no dream. Not a true vision, either. I couldn't sleep at night and sneaked past your guard, trying to solve my thoughts. Then I saw the light in the tower, and went to see it out. The door on the top of the stairs was open, and I saw it… _Palantír_, uncovered and shining, practically begging to be touched. I decided to cover it and then go to tell Aragorn. But he did not let me… He made me touch it, set my hand upon the stone and I saw… this. Him. Sauron…" Legolas' voice cut off, his eyes closed in desperate fight to drive away the pictures in his head.

"Who?" Rafél asked slowly, knowing this was the key to everything.

"I did not see his face. I do not know," Legolas cried out, his features agonised. He hoped against all assumptions that Rafél would not catch the hint of a lie in his statement. For he knew that the same one had caught him the day before in Ithilien, and had been there when he had been saved from the burning pile in the village of Men. But he did not know who he was, so he was not really lying… "He was evil, and cloaked in black. That is all I know. How he got into the White City, I cannot guess. Nor do I know his purpose," Legolas said slowly, glad that the other did not press the matter.

Rafél nodded, his own thoughts far from the present. As he drew Legolas into his arms and held him in the darkness of the night, a cold feel of dread settled down upon him. _"Evil and cloaked in black."_ It was enough to make him shiver, and he pressed Legolas even closer, praying that his sudden, dark intuition was wrong.

_to be continued…_

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**Author's Notes:** This final, penetrating discussion of _palantír_ and all the other nice stuff is dedicated to you, Almut, meine freund (see, Legolas finally told someone something!). You always complain that Legolas keeps all within himself, so it was a time to change that a little. Hopefully this scene also explained _why_ he has refused to tell anyone (now and in the past, for he is the very same Elf still).

In the next chapter (which seems to become horribly longer than I first planned, but what can one do…) will be some more action related (at last #sigh#). A night in Bree proves to be far more dangerous that any of this company thought. And oh, Thaíly will appear again! (for those who have missed him, this is good news, right?)

See you in next chapter, and remember to review! It is not that I am greedy for feedback or anything, but it is always nice to hear (which a review usually proves) that someone is reading this stuff. Criticism, requests, questions and hopes are taken in, and you can never be too encouraging, either :-) I'll answer to proper reviews, I promise. Trying to be a good author now, as I have failed in it for some time already, lol (because of the lack of online-time, that is. Not that the thing would be any better at the moment, though…). Bye for now!


	33. Chapter 31: Night in Bree

**Author's Note:** Hello again, to all! It took a rather long time to finish this chapter, but here it is! I hope the length of it will cover the time used to its writing. And the substance, of course :) It is time to say bye-bye for the Shire, and move on! Thaíly will appear here, and in Bree we shall meet old friends… Welcome aboard!

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**Chapter 31: Night in Bree**

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**Next Day**

"We are coming."

"There is no other possibility."

"Simply no other way."

"You don't have any another choice."

"And even if you would say 'no', we would still be coming."

"Even if you would leave us behind, tied in sacks."

"Because this time, we know the way! We can easily come after you."

"We do?"

"Yes, Pippin. Rivendell, remember."

"Ah, yes. So we know where you are heading at, and can easily follow!" the younger Hobbit shouted triumphantly, hands across his chest, head tilted up with pride and self-assurance.

Most of the Elves tried to keep a straight face, glancing from one side to another, but Gandalf and the lords of Men standing beside the Maiar were not suffering of amusement. They knew that the short creatures before them were deadly-serious, and capable of many things when they wished to achieve something.

And at this point it was quite clear that they wanted to leave with the company that was preparing to move out of Shire.

"This is not a jolly outing," Éomer warned, shifting in his place between Aragorn and Faramir. He also knew the stamina and stubbornness of the Halflings, but was not willing to risk these two: like the others, he also knew they had done their share in the past – for the good of all the races in Middle-earth.

"We are aware of that," Pippin said, though he looked all but that.

"We have the right to defend our people, like you defend yours," Merry added, his voice firm and steady. His eyes shone up at the taller beings, bright and certain. "We are coming." Pippin gave a quick nod beside him.

"Very well," Gandalf sighed, leaning heavily on his staff. "You may come, but remember this: when we reach Rivendell, you may reconsider. This time you can turn back home _whenever_ you so desire." The Hobbits nodded eagerly, not putting another thought at the meaning behind the Wizard's words. They bounced off to gather their belongings while chattering joyously with each other. Gandalf shook his head, but there was a warm light in his eyes. "They shall do much before our journey is over, I deem."

"Good or evil?" Éomer grimaced, making Faramir cough in attempt to hide his smile. "As far as I can remember, they have always been good to get themselves into trouble."

"Trouble or a twist of fate?" Gandalf asked in turn, his eyes moving over the field where their company had gathered. "We shall see what the world has to offer us," he murmured, grey eyes following Gimli as the Dwarf moved towards a group of horses. Usually, Dwarves kept their distance from the great animals, but like in many things, Gimli was an exception.

"Legolas?" the Dwarf called out, trying to spot his friend among the animals. Soft words carried to his ears, and he pushed an Elven horse aside, finally spotting his companion. "There you are," he huffed, halting. The Elf was speaking softly to his great, black horse, the animal's head resting against his shoulder, its ears moving constantly as it listened the fair voice. Morchaint gave a soft snort, pushing closer to its rider. Legolas smiled, his tone too soft for Gimli to hear. "I guess someone is happy to see you…" the Dwarf finally stated, looking at the couple before him.

"I haven't seen him since… that night," Legolas halted in mid-sentence, visibly shivering. He smoothed the dark coat again, whispering something to the pricked up ears. "He has been worried, but now we shall ride together again."

"Horse being worried…" Gimli might have disagreed on that before, but as he had spent some amount of time around Elves, he quite believed this was true: everything seemed to be more alive and conscious around the Eldar. And Morchaint was very fond of Legolas, so it was not a surprise to actually hear the horse had been worried. Gimli would have been, after such events those two had been through lately… "Speaking of which," he re-directed his thoughts, "I have something I need to speak with you about."

"Yes?" Legolas asked, drawing his attention from the horse for a moment.

"My kinsmen… I am sure they appreciate the skills of Men, but I was wondering if a few of your people could bear them on their horses?" Gimli looked at the Elf with hopeful eyes, wishing that his request would not be met with roaring laughter. But he knew Legolas well enough to expect that would not happen.

"Of course," Legolas smiled, for once not using the opportunity to tease his Dwarven friend. "I shall see to it."

"See to what?" another voice asked, Thalión stepping into view, his hand on the neck of his own horse.

"Gimli wished that his kinsmen could ride with some of the Elves," Legolas told his friend.

"Is there a trouble with the Men who carried them this far?" the Cousin asked, his brow furrowing.

"No," Gimli hastened to explain. "It just… It seems to be easier to ride with an Elf." It hurt his pride to admit this, but then again, it wasn't about him this time, but his companions. If he could ease their journey – which an Elven rider would do – then he would commit some sacrifices on his own side.

"Ah," Thalión nodded. He turned his head, and then barked out: "Elladan, Elrohir!" The twins, seeing for their own mounts, looked up in alarm. After receiving a motion from the elder Elf, they came to the trio swiftly.

"What is the matter?" Elladan asked, glancing at Legolas and Gimli before returning his gaze to Thalión.

"Would you and your brother do us a small favour?" After receiving two identically timed nods, Thalión went on. "Adír and Fundal will ride with Elves, from here on. You can take them, right?"

"Of course," Elrohir smiled.

"It would be our honour," his brother added, giving Gimli a short bow.

Gimli returned the gesture, nodding at Legolas and Thalión. "Come then, Lords of Rivendell. My companions are right on the other side of the small ridge there…" The voices disappeared, the twins taking off with the Dwarf, leaving Legolas alone with the Cousin.

Thalión smiled, shaking his head. His eyes followed the others, and after being sure there was no-one else around, he gave his attention to Legolas. "You seem a lot better," he said, smiling softly.

"I feel better," Legolas answered, smoothing Morchaint's forelocks absently.

"And Rafél has nothing to do with that?" Thalión smiled even wider, yet his voice was still low enough for only the two of them to hear.

Legolas jumped, looking at the other startled. "How do you…" he stopped himself before he went further, shaking his head. "We spoke," he said instead, turning his face away to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of in love," Thalión reassured the Prince, his hand settling on the strong shoulder, turning the younger around to face him. "I am rather glad that you finally… saw it fit to act out your feelings." His expression was fond, almost dreamy as he thought of the last night.

"How do you know?" Legolas finally asked, curious. "I thought we kept it hidden…"

"I think many haven't noticed the change, yet," Thalión replied. "I might have not. At times, I thought there was something in your encounters that spoke of something more. As you didn't seem to notice it, and neither did anyone else, I _could_ have told myself it was nothing. But instead I looked deeper. And if this is the result, I am happy about it." He gave Legolas' shoulder a squeeze. "I saw things yesterday that I should have not, and for that I apologise. But long will my heart now endure the darkness before us, knowing that you have found happiness. For he will make you happy."

Legolas nodded, a bit dazed from all this. "You spied on us?" he finally asked, trying to make it sound like an accusation.

"Maybe a little," the elder answered bashfully, drawing away. "But I shall not speak of it. To none. It is a right that only you and Rafél hold." Then he guided his horse away, setting out to find his cousins.

Legolas looked after him, pondering about what he had just heard. As a hand touched his shoulder from behind, he smiled, lifting his own hand to touch the fingers briefly. "I think we have might have been careless," he pointed out, turning his head slightly to the side to meet his guardian's eyes.

Rafél frowned, looking after Thalión. "What did he say?" he asked, Lumén pushing against his back impatiently.

"Nothing too alarming," Legolas sighed. "He knows, though." Rafél seemed puzzled for a moment, but then his eyes widened, making Legolas laugh merrily. "Come now, that look is not becoming of you. After all, you are the elder one of us," the Prince whispered, nudging their foreheads together before mounting Morchaint. "It is a good day to ride," he quipped, urging the horse on.

"Indeed," Rafél muttered, lifting himself lightly on his own steed, taking after Legolas.

On the field, many voices joined together in an exchange of gossips and orders. Rohirrim were taking their places on the line, swift and controlled in their movements. Faramir gathered the Gondorian soldiers with the help of Irolas, visibly envying the skill of the Horse-masters. Aragorn stood beside Roheryn on the edge of the preparations, speaking with Haldir and his brothers. Other Elves and the Dwarves hovered near the King, all absorbed to their final tasks before departing or just spending time. Gandalf, on the other hand, seemed to be waiting for something.

Legolas halted his horse beside those of his Elven companions, Rafél constantly on his side. It made a familiar tingle of safety move up and down his spine, and the Prince looked back, smile passing his features. Not much had changed since the days in his home-woods: Rafél still followed him like a shadow. Yet things were different, but only the two of them knew about it. _As well as Thalión_, he reminded himself. "Are we ready to leave?" he called out, making Aragorn lift his gaze.

"Gandalf has something in his mind," the King answered, glancing at the Wizard. "We shall move out as soon as he is ready."

"Do not be hasty," added a high, excited voice, the statement followed with laughter. It seemed that both Pippin and Merry thought the words of wisdom as a grand joke.

Gandalf smiled as the two shorter beings reached him, followed closely by Sam who did not look nearly as happy as his companions. "Here we are, my friends," he began, giving Sam a fond look. "Do not look so grim, Master Samwise: they shall both return. We shall see to it."

"They had better," Sam muttered, glaring at his kinsmen. "There is an awfully lot to do here, and they merely wish to escape all the hard work." Another harsh glare was directed to the direction of certain Hobbits.

"You know why we are leaving," Merry said seriously. He stepped closer to Sam, putting a comforting hand on the other's shoulder. "We shall return before you notice. Just take care of yourself – and everyone else. Just like before."

Yet they all knew things were not as before, however much they would have hoped for it.

Sam nodded, then looked up at the Wizard again, who was now sided by Aragorn. "Do you think we actually have to do that? Escape? Hide ourselves?" His voice was even, but his eyes betrayed the fear within.

"It never hurts to be prepared," Aragorn answered, throwing a quick glance at Legolas. "Keep your eyes and ears open, and all shall be well."

The Hobbit nodded, still unhappy of the situation. "I will see to it. Just bring these two rascals back – in one peace, preferably."

Pippin laughed, his eyes bouncing between the preparing Men and Sam. "We'll be fine. We have seen worse, remember?"

"I would rather not…" Sam muttered darkly.

Pippin huffed, shrugging. "Think of it as you like. This will be a great adventure! No Dark Lords or Evil Rings this time. What can happen? And we are now capable warriors, too. Last time we left, we knew nothing of…. anything!" he ended with a joyous smile.

"Maybe you should stay home," Merry pondered, an eyebrow lifted at his cousin.

Pippin made a face back at Merry, which in turn made the others shake their heads.

"We are ready to depart, my Lords," Faramir put in, joining to the conversation.

Gandalf nodded, drawing a deep breath of air and pulling himself to his full height. "Good. Now, then: you have my blessings, Samwise. With you here, my dreams shall be much easier and less dark. But beware! We do not know what lies ahead of us, and what we shall face might in turn affect to many things. Even here, at the Shire."

"I wish you good luck on jour journey – wherever it may lead," Sam responded. He sounded even more nervous than before, clearly reading the warning in Gandalf's voice. His eyes looked over the faces both familiar and new. "You will be in my thoughts."

"You make a good leader, Master Samwise," Aragorn smiled, tapping Sam on the shoulder. "I just hope your people know that, as well."

"They chose me," Sam blushed, for once remembering it was not a mere Ranger he was talking to, but the King of Men. "And I have watched great people around me long enough to learn a trick or two."

Aragorn chuckled and bowed, hand upon his heart.

"If we are done with words, let there be actions!" Gimli growled from behind, fingering his axe. "Hobbits can take care of themselves: they have done so this far. There is great hidden valour within them. Let us be on our way, and hope we are not in such a great trouble as you deem," he glanced at Gandalf darkly.

Before Gandalf was able to give the Dwarf a proper answer, Legolas guided Morchaint closer and bend down to touch Gimli's shoulder. "Come." A simple word was rarely – if ever – enough to subdue a Dwarf, but Gimli seemed to understand what was the best for himself¬¬¬¬¬. With an already familiar movement, Gimli grabbed Legolas' hand and allowed himself to be pulled on the great horse.

Éomer joined them on his own horse, looking from side to another. "It seems we are ready." He looked down at the Hobbits, then rode a little closer. "It would be my honour, Master Brandybuck, if you would ride with me."

Merry was bursting with pride as he was lifted to sit before the King of Mark. With a smile of his own, Éomer pulled his horse back, allowing the others to go for their own mounts.

Pippin tried not to look disappointed as his cousin was lifted on a horse. Surely he had known they would ride with Men, but Éomer… _Unfair! Just because he was dressed up as one of the Rohirrim and rode to the Battle of Pelennor Fields with them doesn't mean he has the right to ride with a King. Or that he and Lord Éomer are friends, because Merry knew Lady Éowyn so well..._ He did not think more of that, suddenly remembering some of their friends had passed away recently. Unnaturally so. With a deep sigh he lifted his belongings, wondering if one of Gondorian soldiers would take him as his load. Just for the sake of the past.

"Master Peregrin?" came a hesitant call, making Pippin turn on his heels. Faramir smiled a bit uncertainly, his own horse standing beside him. "I would be glad to ride with you, if you so wish."

Pippin opened his mouth, but instead of a joyous shout he merely nodded eagerly. "More than glad, Lord Faramir," he chided. Faramir was maybe not a King, but he was a great man, and one Pippin was greatly fond of. With a nod from the Steward, he was lifted on horseback, soon followed by the Man himself.

Aragorn tried to hide his smile as he watched the final preparations. He hadn't mentioned to anyone about the coming of the Hobbits, knowing it would have been pointless to tell anyone who didn't already know. He had thought about their riders by himself, however, knowing he could not give those two in the care of just anyone.. Now the problem was solved smoothly, and they were ready to move on.

"Some things stay as the same," a gruff voice laughed gently.

"I see this as a good thing," a fairer one joined to the conversation.

"I didn't say it was a _bad_ thing."

"Did I imply so?"

Aragorn rolled his eyes, glancing at Rafél who sat in indecision beside his Prince and the arguing Dwarf. He did not envy the other's task to watch Legolas – which in turn meant suffering his and Gimli's endless bickering.

"I merely made a statement, and you are immediately reading it wrong. At times I wonder if you Elves have any sense of reason in your light heads," Gimli went on.

"Knowing the gloomy race of yours, I must expect that the things you say must be somehow negatively tinged," Legolas replied, almost as if educating an ignorant child.

"Gloomy? Negative? And what of the Elves? You just keep mourning, seeing the dark side of matters when all sensible beings –"

"Enough, you two," Gandalf called out. "We are all glad that Legolas is well – enough to have a sparring match with you, Gimli – but we must hurry. We have possibly lost too much time here," he murmured, his voice drifting out. His eyes roamed the horizon in front of them, as if searching answers. As he found none, he turned to the Lords of Men gathered close to him. "Aragorn, Éomer! Let us head out." It was enough of a command to make the Men move forth without a separate command from their leaders. No one complained, however, and with a thunder of hooves, the army moved ahead.

Sam stood alone on the edge of the field, staring at the disappearing cavalry. Among them rode many of his dearest friends. The knowledge that each of them – leaving out his kinsmen – were great warriors and had faced many foes long before he was even born did not ease his mind or made him fear less for them. He had heard the cries of the Nazgûl, and he couldn't call down the dark feel that the Black Riders would be the least of their worries. "Go safe, and may the Valar look after you. I doubt no one else will, but you yourself," the lonely Hobbit whispered, pulling his coat closer around him as a cold wind swept through the abandoned and trampled field. After another moment of silence Sam turned back home, thinking about Rosie and his children, and a plate full of hot stew that was no doubt waiting for him.

Near the line of the forest, moving out from the darkness the thick branches created, shadows came out to the open. They trailed across the field, never straying far from the normal shadows cast down by the trees. Following the path the army had just taken, they swept over the ground until they reached the end of the woods. They halted and as if gazing after the distancing force, waited for a moment. A soft, barely audible whisper filled the air, turning to a hiss of something completely evil. Then they went down and vanished among the shadows of the trees, and all was silent again.

**

* * *

**

Water came down from the sky as an endless rain, and Pippin thought if this was simply a twist of fate. Or a cruel game of irony. It seemed so to him. _Twice I have left my home, and twice I have been soaked through before this same city_. Lights of Bree shone before them like a beckoning wall, distant but there. All the evil memories considering that place departed from Pippin's mind as he thought of dry clothes, a warm, comfortable bed, and decent supper.

"Do you think we should enter the town?" Aragorn's voice came through the constant sound of the rain and hooves.

Pippin glanced at Gandalf, to whom the question had been spoken. _Could it possible be they haven't thought about taking refuge in the town? Oh, why did I come along…_ But Gandalf saved him from further misery.

"I would press on, but the Men and the horses are weary, and we have reached Bree without trouble. We have enough time to spend the night here," the Wizard concluded, water dripping down his face.

Aragorn nodded, calling out his orders. Men took their places on the line swiftly, yet there was a clear sign of exhaustion in their movements. The rain had started at morning, soon after they had set out from their camp. It had ended at midday, but began again when they had managed to get into some dry clothes. Lucky to them, the Elves hadn't bothered to change: they had said that the rain would continue later – as it had.

Out of nowhere, making Pippin jump in his place, Elves joined the Men. The wall of rain had hidden their movements around the army for hours now, but they came closer as the Men prepared to enter the town before them. He made out Legolas' form, wondering briefly how Gimli was feeling. The Dwarf hadn't changed into dry clothes either – by his own decision rather than the advice of his friend – but the Hobbit couldn't stop thinking that Gimli had actually believed the Elves. _Good for him. And his kinsmen. They did not bother to change either, probably because Gimli didn't. Dwarven pride or not, it saved them this time. Or at least a one set of clothes._ Shuddering, Pippin wondered if any layer of cloth was still actually dry in his pack.

"We shall reach the city soon," Faramir comforted his companion, shivering himself.

"Good," Pippin replied, then sat up suddenly. "But where shall we put all these warriors? I mean, there is quite a lot of them, even if we are a small army, but no inn is big enough…"

"I am sure Mithrandir had something in his mind," Faramir soothed him.

"Or Strider," Pippin added, remembering their first meeting in the very same city. "Elessar, I mean," he corrected hastily as he realised his error. Faramir merely chuckled, taking his horse closer to the head of the group.

"Does this blasted rain never end?" Gimli grumbled unhappily on his place behind Legolas. It didn't matter how he tried to sit or into which way they were riding: the water always poured on him.

"It will, eventually," Legolas answered. He didn't look too bothered by the sudden wetness, and Gimli decided the Elf had not even noticed they were all soaked through. "Tomorrow is a new day," the Prince added. "We shall spend the night in the city, though the rain will end during the evening."

"Good," Gimli groaned, shifting. It was already late, he knew. The sky had been dark all day, clouds hanging low even at the moments they were not pouring water on him. For a moment he wondered why to enter Bree at all: if the rain would end, it was all the same. Though he would appreciate a warm fire and a big mug of good ale, if nothing else. "Why do you think Gandalf wanted to pass Bree, before the rain began?" he asked, to keep himself warm.

"I think none of us wants to drag attention," came another voice from their right side. Dínnor rode into view, wiping his hand over his face, and then to his fully braided hair. Unlike his kinsmen, his hair seemed as good as ever. Even wet, the small braids held their form and stood against the rain almost mockingly. "Army, even one of this size, is out of ordinary on these grounds."

"True," Legolas agreed, pushing a free strand of hair off from his cheek. "We must be careful." He also glanced at Dínnor, and Gimli thought he was seeing the Prince weigh a possibility of changing his braiding as soon as he got his blond mane dry.

"And who would care of our movements?" Gimli pushed. There was silence, only rain and the horses keeping its constant background sound playing. The air seemed to tense up, and the Dwarf realised he had made the wrong question. Or voiced one that none of them wanted to ask, at the moment. "Forget that," he finally murmured. "I am so cold that thinking of anything else but this cursed rain is a good idea."

"Nazgûl make nothing on their own," Dínnor said finally. His dun eyes were hard, directed shamelessly at Legolas. Gimli edged his fingers unconsciously closer to his axe. "The one behind this has enough power to raise them, and control them. To a goal we do not know."

"Gandalf will give us answers when he reaches them himself," Legolas replied, his face turned away from his friend. His eyes were hidden from both of his companions as he stared at the town before them.

_Have it your way_, Dínnor's eyes seemed to say. He opened his mouth, but then looked at his side, finding Thalión there. The other Cousin shook his silver head, making Dínnor swallow his pride. With a snort, Dínnor spurred his horse forward.

"Do not mind him," Thalión quipped. "This weather makes us all edgy, and he is easy to lose his temper."

As Thalión also moved forward, Gimli was sure he felt an air of nervousness pass. "You will have to tell us, soon," the Dwarf said to the Elf before him, his right hand now laid on Legolas' thigh. "I do not know what it is that you are hiding, but it is important. In some way."

Legolas tensed, the nervousness returning. "Do not make me lie to you, Gimli. I worship silence over that."

Gimli frowned, trying to catch an undertone in the other's voice. Read something, an unsaid message. But he found none, despite the Elf's desire to keep his silence about the matters that bothered him. _I only fear that at some point, possibly very soon, your nightmares will become ours_, Gimli lamented. He did understand Legolas' reluctance to speak, however. If it had been him, it would have been even more difficult for anyone to approach him with the topic. _But would it be so, if I had been through all that Legolas lately has? If I would know what he does._ He glanced at the Elf again. _This is more than stubbornness: we have worked that out between each other. If it would be merely his Elven pride, I or Aragorn would have been able to talk with him already. But no. It is something else. Something…_ Only then he noticed Rafél beside them, the guardian moving a little closer. The brown eyes met his shortly, making the Dwarf wonder if the Eldar saw right through him, to his thoughts. Legolas shifted, and Rafél broke the eye-contact, moving forward until he was beside the Prince.

Gimli tilted his head, the frown increasing. What did Rafél know? Or more likely, how much did he guess? He had known Legolas all his life, so it was probable he could read much of the younger Elf, even if verbal information was cut off between them. _Or maybe he knows. They seem closer than some days ago. But it also may be an after-effect of the Nazgûl's attack, and the work Rafél did to bring Legolas back to light. I imagine that could be enough to make them closer…_ He sat back, unhappy. He knew nothing, and it was eating him from within. Not because he wanted knowledge: he was worried for his friend – his best friend and dearest companion – but had no way to help him as long as Legolas' thoughts remained as his own. _Maybe Gandalf will speak with him, when we reach Rivendell. It would be absurd if Legolas' troubles had nothing to do with this new, raising darkness._ He had no time to think more of that as the front of the army reached the city-gates, and they all stilled to be allowed in.

It took some proper convincing before the Gate-keeper allowed them in. The Man look frightened and pale as the Men of Gondor and Rohan rode past him. Without a further signal, Elves drew up their hoods and kept close to the Men, trying to fight off all curiosity the people of Bree might have: Elves were not regular visitors here.

If any enemy wished to hear of their movements, this was a perfect moment for spies. Keeping a sharp eye on the few people milling on the muddy, dark streets, Aragorn guided his force inside the gates. He had counselled with Gandalf before and they had decided to rent an empty barn or another building like that to provide the men shelter. They all deserved a good night's sleep in a warm place, fresh food, and dry clothes.

When he turned Roheryn back to counsel his captains, Aragorn had never been so happy about the rain. He wore clothes that spoke nothing of his royal state, and wet and muddy traveller would hardly be taken as a King. He had no desire to enter the city with banners and ringing of trumpets. Here, he once more felt like a Ranger. Strider had woken up. "Faramir, stay with Gandalf. He will take…" he glanced at the Elves meaningfully. "Well, you will spend a night in some inn. Irolas, you come with me to find a place for the rest of the Men." He halted and looked around. When he met Éomer's eyes, he beckoned the Rohirrim closer. "Will you take your riders and follow me? There are some empty barns not far from here."

Éomer nodded, helping Merry down from his horse.

"Are you not coming to rest with us?" the Hobbit asked alarmed. Both Kings laughed at him.

"Of course, but we shall see for the needs of our men, first," Aragorn explained softly and then rode forward, soldiers following him.

A group of Men watched the warriors pass in the shadows of a dark building across the street, their eyes glued on the apparent leaders. When all that could be seen had been watched, they exchanged looks, and drew back to the darkness.

"What do you think? Where shall we sleep?" Pippin pondered as he and Faramir also dismounted, joining Merry on the ground. "Not that even a barn sounds good… It will be dry, at least," he made a face, glancing at the sky.

"Come, you three!" came Gandalf's voice through the darkening evening. "Let us not linger in the rain. I have got my share of it," he muttered, and then led Shadowfax on, leaning heavily on his staff. He looked nothing but an old, weary Man, worn from long travel in bad weather.

It was a surprise to some – and a good one of that – when they ended up at the door of _The Prancing Pony_. Hobbits gave out a joyous shout and almost tumbled in on one go, but they were held back for a moment. A stable-boy came around a corner after Faramir went for a search of him, clearly unhappy about entering the rain. After their horses were safely on the stables – Elves took care of their own mounts – the wet and muddy group entered _The Pony_.

It had hardly changed after their last visit, years ago.

Elves looked around anxiously, trying to picture every detail at once. Only the Twins had visited this place, and even that was years ago, when they had accompanied Strider on his journeys. Lórien Elves seemed to be greatly amazed by the place, their eyes wide and shining in the dimness. This was nothing they were used to.

"Shall we book in, change clothes, and have a nice, solid supper before going to bed?" Gimli questioned, shaking his cloak back. He knew Dwarves were known customers here – at least when compared to Elves – and he had nothing to hide from the public. "A big, steamy pint of beer," he murmured dreamily, rubbing his cold hands together eagerly. Merry and Pippin also nodded, looking up at Gandalf expectantly.

"That sounds like a plan," Gandalf smiled, and made his way towards a Man who had just appeared from the Common Room. "Barliman Butterbur," he greeted. The short, fat Man stopped short, his eyes going wide. He stared at the Wizard, then at the Hobbits, to the Dwarves, and last to the tall, slender beings still hooded, almost missing Faramir entirely.

"Gandalf? Master Gandalf? It had been a long time! Welcome, welcome! A… strange group you bring with you," Butterbur smiled, glancing at the Elves again. "Evening, little masters," he greeted the Hobbits instead as the Elves turned to look back at him in return, their invisible stares unnerving.

"Hello, Mr. Butterbur," Pippin said with a bright smile. "It has been a long time, indeed."

At that moment, Aragorn and Éomer entered, shedding of their cloaks to get rid of most of the water hanging on them. Faramir rose an eyebrow, turning to meet his Lord. "That was swift," he said, meaning the housing of the soldiers, leaving the title off with some difficulty. But he knew better than to address his King properly here.

"We were lucky," Éomer grinned, nudging Aragorn's side. "Strider here knew the right place – and the right sum of money," he ended, shaking his head.

Aragorn smirked, then nodded at Butterbur. "Good evening, Barliman," he greeted the Man.

Butterbur went even more still than before – which was very unbecoming of him – staring at the Ranger in front of him. But it was no Ranger. He was no longer merely "Strider", a Man with dark appearance and eyes full of secrets and knowledge of dark things. He was a King. That was what Butterbur remembered, from his last talk with the Hobbits and Gandalf, years ago. But Aragorn looked very unlike from a King at the moment. "My- my Lord," the inn-keeper stammered, but halted when Aragorn lifted his hand warningly.

"Strider, to you," the King smiled, setting the smaller Man into ease. He took a look around to see if anyone had heard. "There is no reason for titles here."

Butterbur seemed to understand – or at least did as told. "Will you stay the night? How many rooms shall it be? It is lucky, for there are many rooms empty at the moment…"

Gandalf turned to look back at his companions, counting in his head. "We stay only tonight," he said absently. "Our horses are already taken to the stables." His eyes moved over the group. "I think we go with as few rooms as we can." His companions nodded. "Normal rooms should be enough: Hobbits shall share a bed. We shall go with –" He halted again as Haldir spoke up on his own language. "Ah, four rooms it is," he nodded.

Barliman eyed the group but did not argue. "I will show you to your rooms," he offered.

"What did he say?" Merry asked as he walked beside Legolas, glancing at Haldir.

"He said that his group will join the Men in the barn," Legolas replied. "Lórien Elves will take the watch tonight, though I think my other kinsmen will join to them eventually."

"Watch? Here? And in the rain?" Pippin questioned, shivering of the mere thought.

Legolas smiled. "We Elves do not see the rain as hazardous as you do. And it will end in a few hours." The Hobbits looked at him doubtingly, but were smart enough to leave the arguing for other beings – like Dwarves.

After Butterbur had escorted them to their rooms he made a hasty departure, eyeing the Elves with both interest and fear. Even if the Firstborns were still hooded, it made little to disguise their immortal appearance. "Well, Aragorn, you take the Hobbits. Legolas and Rafél may share your room," Gandalf raised his voice. "Dwarves will go with Faramir and Éomer. I will rest with the Rivendell Elves," he changed looks with Glorfindel. "Rest of the Elves will invade the fourth room," he said with a smile tugging the corner of his lips. "However much time you will spend there."

"Some of us are in a need of rest," Asthaldo smiled, making a fake yawn. "I could use a few hours," he confessed, making his kinsmen laugh.

"I will be satisfied with some hot food in front of me," Elrohir quipped, and opened the door of his room, peeking in. He turned back to looked at his twin. "It seems we are sharing a bed."

"I'll sleep beside the wall," Elladan said immediately.

"Why always you?"

"Because I am older."

Elrohir stuck out his tongue as he was pushed inside by Glorfindel. "We shall eat in our rooms tonight," Gandalf called out as he also disappeared to the room. "Try to avoid going out, and at least do not do so alone," he said mostly to the mortals. The others nodded and then took their advice and went to see for their own quarters, anxious for dry clothes, food, and rest.

After they all had changed, food was brought to them. Hobbits wished to go down for a pint of beer and were soon accompanied by the Men, the Dwarves, and Gandalf. Elves remained in their rooms, either not daring to enter the Common Room or wishing to have a short moment of rest before the night's watch.

In their room, Rafél checked his weapons before setting them down beside his belongings. Legolas sat on a bed, eyes distant, rocking back and forth. His ears picked the noises from the Common Room, and out from the streets. The rain had ended some minutes ago, only an occasional drop from a drain pipe hitting the windowsill. It was already dark, the night fallen, the few candles of the room giving the air a glowing, golden atmosphere. It was soothing, in a way, after all they had been through. _Yet some insist to keep a watch_, he snorted. He understood Haldir – respected the elder – but still doubted any enemy would hit them here. _They can easily wait until we leave Bree again, tomorrow. Only threat we face here is a drunken fight in the Common Room_, he smiled. He had no doubt the Dwarves would get involved, if such an opportunity presented itself. Luckily they had Aragorn and Gandalf with them.

The bed shifted and Legolas snapped out of his thoughts. The tension in his body vanished immediately as he felt Rafél's hands in his hair, opening the braids and combing through the damp strands. The Prince closed his eyes, bowing his head. This had been a daily ritual when he was a child, after his mother's death. Something Rafél had adapted quickly, and did without complaint every time an opportunity presented itself. Legolas smiled to himself. _He hasn't done this for years. Yet it doesn't feel ridiculous at all, nor offending._

Rafél halted when he was done, golden hair falling freely over Legolas' shoulders. His fingers traced the smooth strands, pondering if he should braid them. It was Legolas' task, naturally, and it could have been taken as an insult if he did it without permission.

Legolas turned his face so he saw the Elf behind him from the corner of his eyes. Rafél's own, almost completely white hair hung loose like his, catching the light of the candles. Reaching out, Legolas tugged a small strand of his guardian's silken hair, smile still playing upon his lips. "Go ahead," he noted the other's uncertainty, "I don't mind." His voice was low, yet he knew Rafél's sharp ears would catch it without a problem. He kept playing with the other's hair as Rafél nodded and gathered his hair in his hands.

"Could you please-?" Rafél asked, amused. Legolas let go of the hair reluctantly, allowing the other to get up and find something to tie his hair with. Instead of searching Legolas' pack, Rafél went to his own and sought some of his own leather straps.

Legolas couldn't hide the proud smile on his face as Rafél braided his hair. It was a small sign, but as an Elf, Legolas took that as a grand gesture. Having his hair bound with his guardian's straps… _Guardian is just a word_, he mocked himself. _In your heart you consider him as more, so why not to say it out loud?_ Maybe he was not ready for that yet, Legolas decided as Rafél tugged one of his braids, playfully indicating he was finished. Legolas traced his hair, fingers touching the binding leather tenderly. Then he laughed sharply. "They will notice, the Cousins," he chuckled. He turned to look at Rafél again.

The elder bowed his head, his eyes refusing to meet Legolas'. He knew that Thalión would remain silent of their changed relationship, but this was a sign the others would see as well, if they took time to notice. "Should I take them off?" he asked, defeat in his voice.

"Don't you dare," Legolas voice was soft, even if his eyes blazed. His fingers still hovered over one of the ties. "I have a right to wear them, do I not? A right you granted me…"

Rafél lifted his head and smiled. "A right? I would merely call it… borrowing items?"

"I consider it more than that," the Prince answered with a secretive smile. His eyes grew serious, however, his expression soon following. Uncertainty sat still deep in him, refusing to let go easily. "Are you regretting? Have you changed your mind?" _I would not blame you if you had._

Rafél drew him into his arms quicker than Legolas could react, pressing their bodies together. "You dare to ask _that_?Question my oath? Do you not listen to your heart? Do you not hear how my _fëa_ sings with yours?" His dark eyes bore into Legolas'. "I cannot change the way my heart feels. I deny it, I perish. Regretting my words to you would be the same as downfall of my entire existence. No, Legolas, I do not regret. I do not wish to… alter anything." He pressed their foreheads together, his breath mingling with Legolas'. "As wrong as my feelings are, you welcome them. And that is enough for me. Knowing that you are happy."

Legolas knew several ways to answer to that, but they heard sounds from the corridor. Breaking the embrace reluctantly, Legolas sat back only some moments before the door was opened and the Hobbits rushed in, silent Aragorn after them. The Man's grey eyes scanned the Elves for a moment, but he went to his bed wordlessly, taking of his boots with a heavy sigh.

"The beer was as excellent as ever," Merry smiled, jumping to the bed he shared with his cousin. "You should have come and joined us!"

"There wasn't even too much folk around," Pippin added with a nod.

"I doubt either of them would have enjoyed it," Aragorn said from his place, laying flat on his back on the mattress. His eyes turned to gaze at Legolas again. "How do you feel?"

"Not like scouting tonight," Legolas answered, throwing a quick look at his guardian which was missed by none. "And I doubt I would be allowed to join them, anyway." He did not sound too disappointed, and Rafél tried to hide his martyr expression of being blamed again.

Aragorn merely nodded, smiling. "I agree. There is enough watches for all of us in the future. Let us sleep tonight."

Everyone agreed, Hobbits already yawning and crawling under sheets. There was some quiet chatting for a while, but soon the cousins fell asleep, exhausted by the long travel. Rafél got up to put out the candles, making his way easily in the darkness. Aragorn turned to his side and was asleep in a minute. In the other rooms, people were no doubt following the example of their room.

Legolas lay down on his bed, staring at the darkness. His ears still picked random sounds from the streets outside. He more heard than saw Rafél moving around the room. Maybe his guardian would keep a watch all night. It wouldn't have surprised Legolas at all.

Instead of staying up, Rafél headed back to bed. He hesitated for a moment, but then slipped on Legolas' other side, pulling a light blanket up on both of them. Under the cover, his hands sought Legolas' body and drew the younger Elf close, his fingers petting the other's hair. With a sigh, Legolas relaxed against him, nudging shamelessly closer. A few minutes later, Legolas fell asleep – eyes closed, as was his wont nowadays. An alarming sign, but they all had got used to it by now. Rafél stayed awake, keeping up the steady, slow movement of his fingers, caressing the other's pale hair, face and neck. Should a nightmare come, he would be ready to soothe it down.

Roughly an hour later the door of the room was opened. Rafél's head shot up immediately, his senses waking him from his light sleep. Dínnor stood in the doorway, looking at their direction. His hand motioned Rafél to get up, his movements anxious. There were people behind him, though Rafél couldn't see who.

Releasing himself from Legolas' hold, Rafél sat up on the bed. The Prince woke immediately, his eyes narrowing in the darkness. "Sleep," Rafél soothed, pushing the other down. "I will be right back." Legolas relaxed on the bed, shifting to look at the door. He pushed up on one elbow as he saw Dínnor, alarmed. "Sleep," Rafél hushed again, this time on his feet. His hand brushed against the side of Legolas' face, signalling the other to do as was told. Reluctantly, Legolas laid back down, drawing the blanket over his body.

Rafél slipped out of the door, finding all three Cousins waiting for him. Thalión was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, seemingly unhappy. Asthaldo stood away from both his elders, and Dínnor was a storm-sign. Forcing back a groan, Rafél raised an eyebrow for his disturbers. "What is it? Have Haldir and his brothers encountered something?"

"Nay," Thalión replied, almost spitting out the word. He glared at Dínnor.

Rafél looked from one Cousin to another, trying to read the origin of their problem.

"We need to speak. Now." Dínnor's voice was firm.

Rafél remembered it from earlier that day, when they rode towards Bree. _This is about Legolas_, he realised immediately and braced himself.

Dínnor saw the reaction, no doubt, and his eyes darkened. "You know something. I would ask this from Legolas himself – as I have done many times now – but as he will not speak…"

"You turn to me?" Rafél tried to sound as if being in disbelief.

"This is no game you are playing," Dínnor continued. "Speaking the name of Sauron is never a game." Even Thalión looked up at this. Rafél shifted uncomfortably. "We spoke, long before reaching the Shire. Maybe it was merely the feel of Nazgûl. _Maybe_. But I do not dare to believe in that anymore. The darkness in him did not pass when Mithrandir drew it out. There is something, deep inside. Waiting. Watching. Corrupting." With each syllable, Dínnor put more weight on his words. "You know that." Dun eyes were glued at Rafél.

Rafél turned his face away, smiling to himself as he saw Khai and Ithika walking closer to them. "We haven't spoken about those things. He is not ready for it yet. He will be, but I do not dare to push him." He turned to look back at Dínnor. "He will speak with Gandalf, eventually. When we reach Rivendell. That is the time given to him, to gather himself. There… Well, Gandalf knows. He was not sent here in vain."

"We are only worried of Legolas," Khai said softly, looking from one Sinda to another. "How are we supposed to help him when we do not know what is broken?"

"How is he supposed to tell you something he does not know himself?" Rafél shot back. It was closest to the truth he could get. Everyone fell silent, heads bowed. None tried to answer back, to make Rafél say more. They all had to accept that was the full truth.

A sudden thump and a strangled shout from the room where the said Elf was still sleeping made them all spring up in action. After a moment of shock, they all turned towards the door and entered, dreading what they might find.

**

* * *

**

After Rafél had left the room, Legolas tried to go back to sleep. He could hear the voices outside, arguing. Dínnor was near to snapping, he could tell, his infamous temper making itself known. He couldn't fight the warm rush of relief as Rafél stood for him, protecting him. He hadn't been sure if his guardian would do so, but the knowledge of that he was not alone made his feel safe. Guarded.

There was a sudden, scraping sound from the window. Legolas opened his eyes slightly, and to his shock he found the window being opened, five figures climbing in. _Men_, he could tell, even in the non-existent light. He drew completely still, pretending to be sleeping. The intruders took him as a woman, not having a clear view on his face, and that was their mistake. As they moved past Legolas' bed, moving close to Aragorn's. "The King," came a silent whisper from one of the Men.

The Elf sprang up.

One knife he had in the bed. The other he could find among his belongings. The first Man he encountered had no time to protect himself as he fell to the ground, shout of pain escaping him as Legolas' arm contacted with his head. The others turned to face the attacker, and at that moment the door was opened, Rafél and Dínnor halting to evaluate the situation.

Everything froze for a second.

The Men made a mad dash towards the window, understanding they were caught.

Aragorn woke up with a jerk, Hobbits following him in suit with shocked shouts.

Legolas moved to block the path of the escaping attackers, bringing down two of the Men and leaving them to be taken care of by the others. Two Men were making their way out of the window, practically jumping through it to escape. Legolas' entry to the outside air was more graceful, his eyes immediately finding the escaping Men who climbed down and jumped to the ground. They had two more companions waiting, none of them staying to see out the fight.

Legolas took a route by the roofs, easily tracking the Men. His hunt took him away from the inn, and soon the Men noticed they were being pursued. With curses, they ran faster. The slanting, uneven surfaces of the roofs were slippery from rain, but Legolas managed to keep up with the Men – to a certain point. The buildings were leaning close to each other on the area where the Men escaped, leaving the ground to darkness. Cursing softly, Legolas descended to a muddy street, making his way onwards silently. His senses played on their edges, trying to track the Men now lost from his sight. A gasp, an intake of breath, a beating of heart…

Legolas did not expect a scream.

Crouching even lower, body tense and alert, Legolas gazed to the darkness, waiting his eyes to adapt. Another scream came form ahead of him. There was sound of a body falling to the ground. Legolas moved forward, eyes now moving to a small alley on his left. He smelled blood. Sensed death. Knife firmly in his hold, he advanced the mouth of the alley.

And halted.

Three Men lay on the ground, visibly dead. Deeper in the shadows, a shape was holding up the fourth Man, the body jerking in death-convulsions. With a strange sound, the shape drew back from the body and cast it to the side. Legolas' eyes followed the now dead Man, then moved back to the shape. Instead of moving to him – like the "shape" could have done at the instant Legolas looked away – it still hang back in the darkness, glowing eyes tracing the Prince's form.

Legolas smiled, tucking the knife into his belt. There was no warmth in his expression. "I would have preferred them alive," he said with a hurt voice. Smell of death was strong in his nostrils.

"I prefer them dead," the one in the darkness snorted, moving forward. "Well, dead at one point. There is always the fun in catching a prey." Sharp teeth flashed in the lonely ray of light coming from the sky above. The teeth were covered with something red and glistering.

Legolas knew exactly where the colour had come from, and it made him cringe. He looked at the bodies again. "This will be a mess," he muttered.

"They know my name," the low, raspy voice laughed. "And they will make up a nice hunt for me. Bad thing being, I am here no longer when they get themselves up and encouraged enough to do anything." He looked down at the Men as well. "They said nasty things of you," he snarled, kicking one stiffening corpse "I thought to teach them some manners."

Legolas looked up, but smiled no longer. "That was hardly a necessary lesson, Thaíly. Now they have no chance to learn of their mistake."

The half-vampire shrugged. "That is not my problem."

Legolas sighed, backing away from the nearest corpse. He felt as if the smell was clinging into him, and it made him feel sick. "What are you doing here?"

"Catching up with you," Thaíly answered. "I have news. You sent me out to get those, remember?"

Legolas snorted absently.

Thaíly cocked his head. "The enemy is waiting. They are anxious. Something is about to happen. A lot _has_ happened since our little chat in Rivendell," he said darkly, eyeing Legolas up and down. "Do you have any sense in yourself?" he finally asked. "In such troubles you have got yourself in, since Rivendell."

Legolas looked up, his eyes hard. "I make what I see right. What of the enemy?"

"They speak of the White Rider. They speak of the Black Riders. And…" Thaíly halted, for the first time unsure. "I am not sure. Someone is leading them. But the information I have gained is contradictory. None seems to be sure what is going on. And they speak of East. Of _Men_, from East. I have a feeling they do not mean Gondorians, even if they made a sure thing of Ithilien Elves." Another pointed look was directed at Legolas. Sniffing the air, Thaíly came closer, his dark gaze remaining on Legolas all the time. "Whatever the White Rider is about to do, he has better to do it quick. But he might be too late already." Black eyes gazed at Legolas intently.

Legolas fought down a shiver that made its way up his spine. "I am well," he said, trying to annoy the other. To answer an unsaid question. But to his surprise, Thaíly shook his head. "I am not?" he smiled.

Thaíly came even closer, pressing their chests together. Legolas was almost able to feel the sharp teeth scraping his neck as the other breathed him in. "Some darkness is not visible, and lies within…"

The murmuring voice sounded almost terrifying, and Legolas forced himself away, anger surfacing. "When I need your opinion, I will ask for it."

Thaíly seemed to consider this. "You have never known… what lies inside."

Legolas looked at the taller being, trying to understand.

"What is forgotten can't be remembered," Thaíly continued, more to himself than to the Elf before him. "Maybe better so," he sneered, concentrating upon Legolas again. "But be careful. There is still something inside you, and what has been sleeping will soon… wake."

Legolas nodded, even if unable to tell if the two things were the same or entirely separate statements. "Where are you heading now?" Thaíly waited silently, and Legolas saw his opening. "We know of the enemy, and will keep an eye on that. What worries me most is…"

"The Nine," Thaíly helped him.

"Yes. Track down the Nine, and follow their movements. I don't want to be surprised by them again." Legolas drew in a long, calming breathe. His eyes were hard, equally meeting those of the dark being before him.

Thaíly nodded, turning to leave. There were sounds from the street, people coming closer.

"Just one more thing," Legolas said suddenly, making Thaíly halt and turn back. "There is a tenth with the Nine. There is something in him that I cannot make out… Be careful with him." His eyes were serious as his voice grew troubled. "He is darker than the others, and his power… Nazgûl are not a thing to play with," he ended sternly.

Thaíly smiled and bowed slightly, eyeing the street behind Legolas. Instead of taking his leave, he walked back to the Prince and bent down to kiss his neck. "Remember your own warnings," he whispered to the pointed ear. "I will be closer, this time." Then he drew away, his eyes directed at the space behind Legolas.

Feeling another pair of eyes upon his back, Legolas turned around. His eyes did not meet Rafél's as the other Elf stared at Thaíly instead. Cousins hovered at his side, uncertain what to do. The tension in the air was almost palpable. Slowly, with a one last look at the dark being, Legolas made his way to his kinsmen. "Let's go," he whispered at Rafél, his hand resting on the other's arm for a moment. Then he walked away, Cousins following him.

Rafél did not follow, however. He signalled the Cousins to take Legolas back to the inn, and then stepped into the alley.

"I should –" Thaíly began.

"I know. But you won't." There was a cool smile on the pale lips as Rafél countered the other's stare. "He is ordering you around again, is he? How do you let that happen?" he made a tsking sound.

Thaíly smiled almost sweetly. "You would not understand. But it does not matter." There was silence for a moment. "I think I should congratulate you. Or kill you. But he is alive, still. Keep him that way."

"I intent to."

"Good. Because only one of us wishes to see the day to come when I come to get your life as a compensation of his," Thaíly purred. He turned to leave, but then looked back as if remembering something important. "You might ponder, while I am gone, why he asked me to search the _Ten_ instead of the _Nine_." Then he was gone, like a shadow in the night.

Rafél stared at the dead Men and wondered for a moment if he was meant to lie among them. But the fate had a funny sense of humour. And Thaíly, if any, was an unreliable, unpredictable tool of destiny. _He promised death of my next failure, last time we met. It seems I am either forgiven, or he was in too much of a hurry to carry out his word._ Gazing at the narrow strip of the sky that was visible between the buildings, he took a long, deep breathe, calming himself.

_"Why he asked me to search Ten instead of Nine."_

Thaíly's words haunted Rafél's mind as he returned to the others, but he gave no sign of his thoughts to them. He would speak with Legolas, later. And this time, there would be no barriers between them. He wanted the truth.

**

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**

A new morning opened misty and pale, but the Elves predicted a good day to travel. The full company housed in _The Prancing Pony_ was gathered into the Common Room for breakfast, earlier than most of the people of the city even considered waking. Elves were no longer hiding themselves, tired of pretence. After all, the room was empty at this hour. Barliman Butterbur and his staff were the only ones awake – though they made enough of staring for an entire city.

"What happened last night?" Gimli finally voiced the question that had been hanging over the silent group for long minutes.

Cousins changed pointed looks, Aragorn shifted uncomfortably beside Legolas who stared hard at his food, while his guardian stared at him from the opposite side of the table.

"Someone made a move on Aragorn," Asthaldo explained.

"They attacked our room," Merry exclaimed.

"Through the window!" Pippin added.

"Legolas stopped them before any real harm was done," Aragorn said sternly, his eyes dark. Seemingly he was not happy about the situation. One, he was being surprised – which spoke clearly of the loosened grip of his former skills. Secondly, he had been identified. None of them wished to know what further deeds they would be forced to endure before they left the city.

"They probably recognised the King, and thought about his treasury," Legolas comforted the Man beside him. He was also trying to calm Faramir, who was more than slightly concerned about the well-being of his Lord. "They will not bother us again."

"Which is a funny thing," Gimli said with a low voice, leaning over the table like a one in conspiracy. "As I and my companions went out this morning, the few Men awake spoke of murder. Four Men has been found." He glanced at the Elves. "They say it was a Blood-sucker. A vampire."

"They spoke as if such a thing has happened before," Adír added.

"It has," Aragorn confirmed, abandoning his food in his interest for gossips. "Years ago. I have seen some of the dead myself." His eyes flew briefly on Legolas who was eating again. "Dead people appear now and then. Two wounds on their neck," he explained, placing his fingers on his own neck, above the biggest veins. "Sucked dry, they say." He shook his head. "Many dark things move in the night. Maybe there is such a creature." He glanced at Legolas again. "What happened to the Men you hunted? Four, you said to me, was their number."

Legolas was just about to answer when a group of drunken Men entered the room. Elves looked at them briefly, then away again, loosing interest. This was a very good impression of Men – especially those of Bree.

"What happened to the Men that were left to your room?" Legolas asked in return.

"We let them go," Elladan laughed. "We found out they were nothing but greedy Men with pictures of coins in their eyes. When they understood their error, they quickly retreated."

"I am sure they will never approach us again," the other twin added, and the whole table laughed.

"About the Men you hunted –" Aragorn continued, turning to Legolas, but then stiffened as one of the drunken Men approached their table, leering down at Legolas. "Can we help you?" the King asked icily, hating the intrusion. This worked on Legolas' profit, who visibly did not wish to speak of the events of his short hunt.

"How much?" the Man slurred, leaning at the end of the table beside Legolas. He was both tall and strongly built, wore worn clothes, and smelled clearly of beer.

"Pardon?" Aragorn asked, puzzled.

"Of this pretty one. How much do you want of him?" the Man asked again, eyeing Legolas boldly. It was clear he had never before seen an Elf in his life.

Aragorn tried not to laugh, understanding the other was completely serious. "My companion is not for sale," he said dryly. Twins and Cousins were smirking, Legolas look ill-humoured, and the Dwarves were eyeing the Man dangerously. Éomer hid his mouth with his hand, whereas Faramir looked ready to curl up in shame.

"Oh, come now. I'll give a nice price of him," the Man insisted, reaching out to pet Legolas' head.

Before the hand reached its destination, however, Rafél was up from his place and had the Man pinned at the table viciously. Blade flashed in the air, embedding itself to the table – through the drunken Man's hand. The Man roared in pain and tried to fight his attacker away, but Rafél had enough power to keep him still. "I hope – for your own sake – that this is the last time you propose anything like that, especially with involving any of my kin. One more word," he hissed as the Man opened his mouth to speak, "and I'll cut off something more than just your filthy hand." The threat was enough to make the Man shut his mouth. "Now get away from my sight, and do not _ever_ set an eye on him!" With a swift yank, Rafél drew his knife free from the table, making the Man let out another cry.

The Man stumbled back, clutching his wounded hand against his chest, eyes wide with fear. He was out of the inn swifter than any drunk before him.

Dínnor started to laugh, the others eyeing him sceptically. Legolas stared at the blood running across the table, then up at his guardian who was cleaning his blade. Hobbits sat, quiet and horrified, trying to hide behind Gandalf who's eyes were serious as they moved between the Prince and his guardian. Dínnor finally controlled himself, shaking his head as Rafél turned calmly at them. "Let us leave this city before he actually kills someone," the Cousin decided, standing up from his place.

"I readily agree," Gandalf joined him, other swift to follow. "This will cost us enough," he marked at Aragorn, who merely grunted.

Legolas stared at Rafél for a long moment, and then nodded his head. There was perhaps a scolding light in his eyes, but more than that, there was frank gratitude. Rafél stretched out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation Legolas took it, letting the other to lead them back to their room to get their belongings. It was indeed better to leave Bree before anything else could happen…

_to be continued…_

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**Author's Notes:** Well, there was it! Long, but done. I hope you enjoyed it! Again, review and tell me, either way. I can hardly tell your opinion without reviews, that is.

In the next chapter we shall have a lot of talk. Not a lot of action to come. But answers, perhaps. ;) Those are slowly starting to form, as the tension grows and the enemy is about to present itself.

Stay around, and see what shall happen!


	34. Chapter 32: Words of Wisdom

**Author's Notes:** I am spoiling you people! Another chapter, this soon… But I absolutely had to write it, as I got an idea of how the beginning of the chapter should go. So, whine if you like, but here it is! ;)

Of the next part "Parting Ways", I promise nothing. I haven't planned it too much, either. It will be a short one (as this one was supposed to be…), which means I might get it done sooner. We shall see about that, when the time comes. Remember to review, hurry me on, and tell your opinion: which characters you wish to have more, what possibly annoys you, and so on! I will try to answer to every review as soon as I can.

For now, enjoy this chapter! This was supposed to be one without much action, but see what happened? This is almost maddening, my creative fingers corrupting the fine script I have done... #sulks#

All hail Gandalf, the saviour of the day, and let there again be light in our lives – and in those of our heroes. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 32: Words of Wisdom**

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**Some days later**

There was a change in the air. Or maybe it was simply Aragorn's own imagination. He couldn't tell either way, but it did not matter: he felt it in his heart. The change was also visible, if you knew where to look: whereas it was merely a feeling to a Man, it must have been a physical transformation for an Elf. They probably heard a familiar song, smelled in the air a call of their home.

They were coming closer to the Valley of Rivendell.

Turning slightly to a side on his saddle, Aragorn tried to pry a look at Legolas without being caught. The Elf looked more at ease than for days – especially since leaving Bree. He was not sure if anything had changed, really, but it must have affected Legolas too that they were back on Elven lands. _I just wonder how long this serenity will last?_ the King pondered. He had had numerous conversations about the matter with Gimli, neither of them able to answer to the question – or to any other invading their mind. He had actually turned to Gandalf, after Bree was left behind. It had taken some effort to find a moment to speak with the Wizard, as he had to make sure that any of the Elves were not nearby.

"Patience, Aragorn. I know it must be hard to you, but it shall not be long, now," the Istari had said, awful calmly for Aragorn's liking. So he had to wait – again. It was becoming a habit he loathed more than anything else.

"You are staring," Legolas' smooth voice alarmed the Man. The Elf was actually smiling, and it seemed the expression reached his eyes as well.

_This is a step to a better_, Aragorn told himself, throwing an apologising smile back at his friend. _Let us wish it shall last._

A series of laughing voices filled the air and the King directed his attention to the smaller being walking on the ground. Dwarves and Hobbits were sniggering while plodding along, making remarks of the Elves who were riding back and forth aimlessly, sometimes disappearing to the surrounding forest and then appearing again. Fair voices remained when the sight of them was lost, laughter and Elven words carried in the air.

"Have they all gone mad?" Gimli wondered loudly, knowing that most of the immortals would hear him. That was the point, actually.

"They are merely happy to reach their home," Gandalf explained, knowing that at least the Hobbits truly desired to know what was going on. "After a long travel on strange lands, among strange people, it is a joy for them to return to a world they know. The Valley might not be considered as an Elven kingdom, nor do they all come from these lands, but it is still… more like a place of their own," he concluded, laughing along with the others as the Cousins raced by them with the Twins, a hunting-game taking place between them. Their horses seemed as excited as their riders, snorting and neighing, moving restlessly when they were halted and willingly moving to a swift gallop again when allowed.

Elrohir guided his horse next to Legolas', making it move backwards before the Prince's. "Come, join us! Surely Morchaint could use some exercise – especially now that Gimli is not sitting behind you and whining."

Legolas smiled but shook his head. A swift glance was stolen in Rafél's direction, a light passing his eyes. "I could not do that."

Elrohir made a face. "Surely you can. You are not chained together." He glanced at the guardian. "Haven't you ever escaped from him?" he leaned forward, staring at Legolas with a dare. His brother guided his horse beside theirs, joining to the luring with an encouraging look.

"I have," Legolas answered with a smile.

"And?" Elladan encouraged him on.

"I never managed to escape him, but momentarily," Legolas confessed, though he did not look too ashamed of that.

Elrohir tried to look crestfallen as he glared at Rafél, almost in disbelief. "How could that be?" he questioned.

"He is a very good rider," Legolas explained. "He has the experience of many years, and Lumén here is not to be taken lightly."

"Neither is Morchaint," Elladan said, nodding at the black animal. "I have seen him run, and I do not think even Shadowfax could rival him for long."

Shadowfax snorted, and Gandalf lifted an eyebrow. Morchaint merely trotted along, pricking up his ears as Legolas smoothed his long neck. "Thank you, but no," Legolas answered. "I have caused Rafél enough reasons for a headache, lately." It was something a mortal might have said, as Elves did not suffer of headache, but Legolas had adopted many things from his friends – their idioms among them.

Elrohir pulled his horse away, still back towards the direction he was going in. His face took a martyred look, and he lifted his hand to the air dramatically. "You would be quite safe with us. This near to the Valley, no evil would dare to move –"

An arrow shot through the air, making its way between Elrohir's spread fingers before hitting a bush nearby. Elrohir fell to the ground with a shriek as his horse reared up. Laughter echoed in the trees, and soon Khai appeared to a nearby branch, bow still in her hands. "My apologies, Elrohir! I just couldn't resist!" she tittered, accompanied by her brother who did not try to hide his grin, either.

Elrohir looked ready to explode, leaning up on his elbows and glaring up at the tree. "If you consider this as a joke, let us show what kind of 'fun' we can make up here, at Rivendell…"

The Lórien Elves laughed, then let out a whistle. Their horses appeared from among the trees, and without a second thought each of the siblings jumped down to the backs of their mounts. Khai rode next to Elrohir and reached down with her hand. "Come now, do not be such a baby," she smiled tauntingly.

Elrohir allowed himself to be pulled up, dusting his clothes for a while with a hurt look. "I will inform Haldir of this rude action against your fellow comrade. He will see for that a just punishment will be set for you."

Elladan shook his head, wiping the smile from his face just as his brother turned to look at him. "What?" he asked innocently. Another second later, both twins were again on horses, hunting each other to the forest. With a final chuckle, Khai and Ithika headed out as well, to join their own group that was scouting ahead. There was no reason to fear an approach of an enemy, but it was more of a habit that guided the Elves to check their surroundings.

Glorfindel shook his head, Rafél looking just as amused. "Youths," they both sighed at once, laughing heartily at their wittiness.

A momentary silence landed, the shouts of the racing twins disappearing to the distance. None of them complained of the peace, knowing it would be broken all too soon.

It was, but not by a new set of Elves rushing into the sight.

"How old are you? If you do not mind me asking," Pippin asked carefully, glancing up at Rafél from his place beside the Elf's horse. "I mean, you look very young – as all the Elves do. That is so confusing. Yet they refer to you as an elder one, and, well, you look older, in a way. Like Glorfindel," the Hobbit pointed at the golden-haired Elf, giving them both a shaky smile.

Rafél smiled fondly, remembering all the details Legolas had told about these creatures – and what he had learned himself. Hobbits may be innocent and child-like, yet there was great courage in them. They were also curious – sometimes so it was dangerous to themselves. Peregrin Took was one of those. "I do not mind, of course," he answered, noticing Legolas' smile from the corner of his eye. "I am old, indeed, like you have guessed."

"Eldest of us, actually," Glorfindel joined in. "He is far older than I. Probably a lot older than Lord Celeborn or Lady Galadriel."

"Older than Elrond?" Merry asked, eyes wide as he gazed at the Eldar riding beside them.

Aragorn laughed at this. "Far older," he confirmed. "He has seen Legolas' father, King Thranduil, grow up. He is one of the eldest who still remain on these shores."

"I even saw Oropher grow up," Rafél muttered, bowing his head. Long were the ages behind him, and today proved to be one of those days; when he remembered Legolas was nothing but a child compared to him. _And a child I have vowed to love, as an equal._ The thought was almost ridiculous, but one glance at the Prince next to him reminded him of the reasons _why_ he had told Legolas of his feelings in the first place. _Heart rules the actions of Elves. Fight it, and eventually you will perish._

"You really are…. old," Pippin finally got out. "I am not sure if I understand…" His youthful face looked troubled, and he glanced at Rafél again, as if trying to find some traces or hints of age from his face.

Rafél tried not to look amused. "I was one of the first born to this world, from those who woke at Cuiviéne. Children were not an usual thing for Elves at those times, yet my parents made a decision to have a child. Those were the years when Eldar separated, most making their way to west from our birthplace. The Seven Fathers of Dwarves, and the Ents, woke at that time, also," he glanced at Gimli who looked up in interest. "I have lived the time when there was no Sun, or the Moon, either." He smiled as if in memory, eyes distant.

"No sun?" Merry exclaimed, looking up at the sky in alarm. "How could you live? In darkness, without the sun…"

"Oh, there was light," Rafél laughed. "The Stars shone down on us, and they still reflect from our eyes. We needed nothing else but them. We sang at them, danced under them…" The guardian fell silent, his fair face showing the pain of the years long lost in memory. "But even in the light of Stars, there was darkness. Shadows of Morgoth haunted us. Many left for Eldamar, a promised land of Valar. I was one of those who never crossed the Sea. I stayed, and was there to face the twisted creatures Morgoth had created: Orcs and Trolls, and many other hideous things that I shall not name. Some made of my kin, or from the captured Ents. Many were the Evil we fought, places we found from new lands, and great were the cities we founded.

"When the Sun and Moon were made, Edain woke. It started a new era in the world of Elves," his smile was genuine as he glanced at the Men around him. "This time was followed by teaching the Men, and fighting off the power of Morgoth. I was in the War of Wrath, in the final battle against him, when he was finally banished to the Void. I saw Beleriand washed away by the Seas, mountains falling apart in front of the might of Valar.

"The rest of the history is more or less known to you," he looked at the Hobbits again. "Much I have seen and ventured – and much there is still for me to see and learn." Rafél shifted on horseback, looking at the distance. He was aware of Legolas' gaze upon him, but did not meet the other's eyes: he needed a moment to return to the present, memories now fresh in his mind. None bothered him, understanding that memories like his were not easy to push back when surfaced.

"No sun…" Pippin muttered, shaking his head. "I can't believe that. I wouldn't have survived those times, that's for sure…" he bit his lip, then looked up at Gandalf instead. "What shall we do in Rivendell? What happens there?"

The Wizard laughed, pretending to look surprised. "We shall try and solve some of the riddles you have created in your wake during the last months."

"I would rather say the riddles have been forming _around_ us, all the time since the murder of Lady Arwen and the attack to Woodland Realm. We have merely been forced to follow the path appointed to us, and hope for the best," Gimli stated gruffly.

"And who has _forced_ you to take any path, Master Dwarf?" Gandalf asked in return.

"For an example, a certain Elf's clear dreams of hazard and disaster," the Dwarf answered, glancing at Legolas with a meaningful look. This was good time as any to try and solve some of the riddles he desperately wanted to unravel.

Legolas drew very still, his face pure of all emotions. Morchaint paced nervously under him, tossing his head aside. Without waiting for the next words, Legolas guided Morchaint forward, disappearing into the woods in a moment.

"It is good we did not ask him for more details, back at Gondor," Gimli continued. "I have a feeling he would have been able to give us those."

"He did not look too surprised as we entered Hobbiton," Faramir added carefully. Aragorn glanced at him, then at the guardian who was still riding among them. None said a word.

"Should you go after him?" Aragorn stated finally, directing his words to Rafél.

"He is quite safe with the others," Glorfindel argued, looking unconcerned.

"He did not join the others. He wishes to be alone," Rafél said quietly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the forest for a while. Then he said something softly at Lumén, and without another comment, he also rode to the forest. It took him a little while to track Legolas, but as the other did not try to hide himself, it proved to be rather easy. Making sure no other was nearby, Rafél entered a small clearing Legolas had found, stopping as he reached the other's side.

Legolas sat in silence, staring down at the moss and roots. He did not reject the other, however, and even gave his hand freely as Rafél laced their fingers together. Neither spoke for a moment, just enjoying the closeness of each other. Their _fëa_ moved in unison, comforting and seeking solace. A breeze woke in the trees, swaying the branches in the rhythm of an unheard song.

"Sometimes, I wish it all to be over," Legolas whispered finally, lifting his gaze from the ground. His eyes traced the forest, emotions flitting through them like waves hitting the shores of the Sea. "All this guessing and hiding… The questions I have no answers for." Despair entered his voice and he turned to look at Rafél, knowing the other would understand even if he did not know everything. Their souls, close to one another, made them understand the things left unsaid.

Rafél pressed his head against Legolas', closing his eyes. "It will pass. Gandalf will guide us now."

"It is so easy to let an old man lead the way, and forget your own responsibilities," Legolas said almost sorrowfully. He nudged his head closer, feeling the other's warm breath against the skin of his neck. "Gandalf can't make all the decision for us. I keep wondering how he intends to find all the answers he – and we – need. Can he even find them? On his own…"

Rafél lifted his head, pressing the fingers between his with more meaning. "The answers are out there. We just have to find a right way to reach them. Have faith in those around you – and in yourself."

Legolas nodded, his expression still downcast. He closed his eyes as breathed deeply, shuddering at some memory. "I wonder how the things are going at home. After so much…" He did not finish – he did not have to.

Rafél felt a twinge of pain in his own heart. "They are fine. Who knows, maybe we can go and visit them, after Gandalf has reached his… answers." He hated how hollow his words sounded even in his own ears. Legolas was no child and they both knew it might take a rather long time before either of them was able to see their friends and families again. "But I will stay with you, come what may," he promised, knowing it was better than nothing was.

Legolas smiled and turned to look at the elder. Their faces hovered close to each other, eyes locked. "I know. And I am more grateful of that fact than you will ever know."

Rafél made a small nod, eyes soft. Legolas' fingers held fast on his and he was able to hear the others beating heart. Trust was pure and strong in the blue eyes, drawing him closer. He could easily forget the shadow that lay beneath, all the pain and suffering drowned by the immense feeling of love.

Their lips barely touched when Asthaldo's voice rang though the air. Legolas halted, closing his eyes. There was mirth in their depths when he opened them again, and a small apology. Rafél merely swallowed his sudden pang of bitterness and leaned back. Their fingers remained together, however, Legolas signalling that he was unwilling to let go yet. Rafél succumbed to this, maintaining the contact as they slowly rode forward to the direction they knew the others were in.

The Cousins appeared from the forest without a warning, joining to the Prince and his guardian. Asthaldo and Dínnor seemed to check Legolas for injuries, sensing something was out of place, but Thalión merely smiled knowingly.

"Is everything all right?" Asthaldo asked, frowning at Legolas.

The Prince nodded, but did not let go of the hand holding his. Right now, he needed reassurance. He did not know why, but did not deny the feeling, or the need. Having Rafél close was one of the things he wished to enjoy as long as possible.

Asthaldo glanced at Rafél, who shook his head. With a shrug, the youngest Cousin settled down as they made their way back to the army.

Twins had not returned to the company yet, but Haldir and his companions were present, having a small debate going with Glorfindel. Hobbits were back on horses, Dwarves making their way on the ground – a way of travelling they preferred. Gimli threw a wary glance at Legolas when the Elven party came to view, but as he found no immediate danger, he even dared to welcome the other with a smile. Legolas returned the gesture, finally letting go of Rafél. They still kept close to each other, but no one wondered about that.

After another half an hour passed, Elladan finally appeared, smirking as he stopped his horse. "Come now! Not a long way anymore."

"Where did you lose your brother?" Glorfindel asked, frowning.

Elladan's grin widened. "He had not the patience to hang back anymore: he made his way to the Valley, starting the preparations for our coming."

Glorfindel snorted, but Gandalf and Aragorn laughed. "And left you behind? How very brute from him," the King joked, reaching his foster brother.

The twin nodded and turned his horse to ride alongside Aragorn. "Yet it is good idea to have someone in there, too. Not that my people would be completely ignorant of our arrival," he said quickly. "Things will be done quicker, that's all."

"I wonder how you or your brother makes that happen," Glorfindel muttered, but his words were a mere meaningless jibe. All knew that the twins had both taken up their father's place in the command of Imladris. "I can only imagine what Erestor shall say about our recent adventures…" he pondered quietly, more to himself than to the others, but those who heard understood well: Erestor would not take these matters lightly. And he would not be he only one.

Aragorn sat up in his saddle, suddenly recognising an old tree beside the road. Then came a familiar group of boulders, a small river that gathered to a pond a few miles aside… These were lands he knew like his own pockets – better, even, as he thought about it. He had forgotten much during his years away, but now it all came back to him and filled him with intense emotions. Their last visit to Imladris had been filled with fear for Legolas' life and worry over several other matters. Now that he had gathered at least a small amount of peace of mind, he enjoyed this immensely. He also began to envy Elrohir who was already at home, however much preparing for their coming.

As they came within a sight of the Valley, they all halted. Men gasped in wonder and blinked their eyes. Elves merely took in the vision familiar and beloved to them – wherever they were from: Imladris had always been a place of importance to all of them.

"Amazing," Éomer breathed.

Aragorn gave him a strange look, then laughed. "Forgive me, my friend! I have completely forgotten that not all of us have been blessed to see this place before."

Indeed, it was Éomer's first time he saw Rivendell more than just with his imagination's eyes. "I think it is greater than in any of those stories and songs I have heard of it," the King of Mark noted, gazing at the waterfalls and almost invisible buildings among the trees.

Elladan beamed at the Man, yet there was sadness in his eyes. "Much of its glory is now gone as our people have left it. Come, for you have seen nothing yet! Let us enter, and then you shall devour the sight and the feel of it as long as you like."

The army moved forth, some eager to return to a familiar place, some looking forward to a proper rest. And food. Hobbits chatted eagerly about the dinner and poor food they had received on the road. Faramir and Éomer merely shared looks, unable to do anything else.

As the entire party gathered within the walls of Rivendell, a small group of people had already gathered at the yard. Elrohir was there of course, sided by Erestor who was beside Glorfindel quicker than the other Elf had got down from his horse. "What is this talk of Nazgûl and a new rise of darkness? You had better explain this before I –"

Glorfindel led his friend aside and they spoke for a moment, Erestor eventually deciding that if he wished to have the full account of the event, he would have to wait for a while.

Another Elf waiting for them received bows from the Lórien Elves, shocked looks from the others. Celeborn did not let the surprise last for long, walking straight to Gandalf. "It is good to see you again, Mithrandir, even if the news of your return were a shock. I can only wish it is nothing bad that your arrival is deeming."

"We shall see about that," the Wizard answered, smiling. "You will receive a full account of the events from your people. They have been a great help for us. Now, if you all please, this company is in a need of a good rest. Let us find rooms for all of us, and then gather for a lunch later. After that I shall go to the library, and gather all the information I am able."

Both Erestor and Celeborn nodded, Elladan and Elrohir already in a work of dividing the Men into places they could rest in. "I am afraid we might have to share rooms," Elrohir grinned as he returned to the others, soldiers currently taking the horses to the stables and preparing to settle in.

"I think we are going to survive that," Aragorn grinned, taking his packs from Roheryn's back. "Let us take care of our horses, and then do as my men already are. I will feel like a new man when I get some fresh clothes on me."

"I shall see with Irolas that the men are in no trouble," Faramir offered. "I shall find you others then."

Aragorn nodded, too weary to do that himself. Éomer accompanied Faramir, and the Men soon disappeared from sight. "At least Faramir has been here before: I can trust him to move around without a fear of getting lost." Aragorn's smile was tired yet happy. It felt like coming home after a long, lonely travel in the wilderness – though this time there was quite a different road behind him.

"Let us go then!" Gimli growled. "I am ready for some fresh clothes and food myself." The Hobbits nodded eagerly beside him.

Fundal kept glancing around all the time, taking in the unfamiliar place. Adír looked ready to tell him to stay put, but instead the older Dwarf stole a look himself. They had heard stories of this city, like everyone else, but it was quite different in the nature. Even deserted, Rivendell still differed from the rest of the world around it. An invisible curtain of magic seemed to hang over them, sheltering the Valley from all evil.

"Do you like it?" Legolas asked, making Fundal look at the Elf in surprise and blush to the tips of his ears. After he received a curt nod, Legolas laughed softly and looked around himself. "I am sure Gimli will be more than happy to show you around, after the supper. He spent quite a while here, before we set out with the Fellowship."

There was an answering growl from the mentioned Dwarf, but Gimli did not outright reject the idea. Fundal looked excited, and Adír shook his head wearily. It was going to be a long evening for the elder Dwarves, it seemed.

After getting the horses settled, the company left the stables and moved inside. Faramir and Irolas had joined them by then, Éomer still curious of all he saw. "The soldiers shall eat in their rooms," Faramir informed his King. "We shall gather up to eat together, I assume?"

"Naturally," Elladan smirked. "Now lets find us some spare rooms, shall we? I am starving."

"I think that is the very first time I hear an _Elf _say such a thing," Pippin mused, rubbing his own stomach.

"He is a half-Elf," Asthaldo corrected, elbowing Elladan to the side good-naturedly. "That is why he is hungry."

The Hobbits looked at him doubtingly, and the Elves laughed. "Better to keep those jokes away from Hobbits," Ithika decided. "They won't buy it."

"Duly noted," Elladan huffed, elbowing Asthaldo in return.

They parted soon, each to their own rooms. Hobbits shared one, Dwarves another, Elves making their own groupings in the other end of the hall.

Legolas allowed his packs fall to the floor as the door closed behind him, feeling suddenly tired from the journey. Gimli and the Dwarves were in the room next to his, and he could hear them speak among themselves on their own gruff language. A few words he could make out, but not enough to understand.

Rafél moved across the room, taking their belongings to a one side. Gazing out to the forest opening outside their room, the guardian stood on the doors of a balcony leading outside. He opened the doors, allowing fresh air to blow in. Leaning against the frame, he closed his eyes and allowed his body to rest for a moment.

"I bet you could use some sleep," Legolas said quietly, approaching his companion. "I do not even dare to ask when you have slept properly last time." He reached for the other, touching his back haltingly. "Such trouble I have caused you. You give so much to me, and I have nothing to give back…"

Rafél turned around, gazing at the sorrowful face before him. "This is not about giving or taking, Little Leaf," he soothed, taking Legolas' face in his hands. "This is about... My duty and love." He halted for a moment, eyes cast aside. "I do not know which, anymore. It confuses me, almost to a point of fear," he uttered, meeting Legolas' gaze again. "I swore oaths to your father, years ago. Now it feels… as if I am violating them." He saw the alarm on Legolas' face, but did not let go yet. He had something to say. "But who am I to refuse your love?"

Legolas' eyes widened, then he smiled. "And love I do," he whispered brokenly.

With a satisfied sigh, Rafél drew Legolas to his arms and turned back to the trees. They stood so for a while, Legolas' back leaning against his chest, listening to the song of the trees and watching the birds that came down to sing for them.

Finally, they went back inside, knowing they would soon be missed for the lunch. Legolas dug some clean clothes from his pack, settling them to the bed. He unfastened his braces slowly, humming a song to himself, then moved to undo his tunic. He did not hurry, taking his time, all the time listening to Rafél's movements around the room. He couldn't help but smile as the other Elf walked to him, breathing in his scent playfully, the warmth of his body solacing against his back.

"You are doing this on a purpose," Rafél muttered, reaching around to undo Legolas' tunic. "We shall be late soon, and you know how much the Hobbits hate to wait – especially when it is something about food." There was no real scold in his words, of course, and that made Legolas smile even wider. At some point Rafél's fingers halted, his arms instead holding the smaller Elf.

Legolas turned his face slightly, meeting the brown eyes. As they gazed at each other, Rafél's fingers moved slowly, finding the warm skin of his chest. They moved carefully over the fresh scar near to his heart, feeling, remembering. Legolas shivered, but was held in a firm embrace. "I'm alive. I live." His words were met with a harsh intake of breath, the change in Rafél's eyes almost visible. But whatever inner demons the other was battling, they did not show in his actions: slowly Rafél bent down, kissing Legolas softly.

Legolas' eyes closed and time seemed to stop. His _fëa_ flared, reaching out for its mate, dancing with excited joy. Legolas did not understand this but allowed it to happen, shyly answering to the older Elf's movements. They had kissed before, once, and that was roughly all the experience he had. But he was not afraid, and knew he could hardly do anything wrong.

Rafél drew back for a moment, his lips marking the other's temple fondly. Legolas swallowed then looked up at his guardian. There were so many emotions in the dark eyes that he was not sure which to read first, but Rafél gave him no chance to ponder that when he was kissed again.

Legolas turned in the other's hold with a smile, breaking the contact of their mouths for a moment. Facing his lover now, Legolas brought his hands to his own heart then moved them over Rafél's. He said nothing, merely stared at the other's eyes, and then sighed as Rafél drew him back to his arms. His _fëa_ was still singing, filling him with strange warmth. Frowning, Legolas looked up at Rafél, silently asking what to do.

Rafél tightened his hold around the other, shortly unsure. His _fëa_ yearned to join with Legolas', to dance with it, but the other Elf was obviously confused. He did not wish to frighten his protégé, even if that meant certain refraining from him.

Legolas sensed the hesitation, and bit his lower lip while gathering his thoughts. "I am not very… experienced in this. I understand love, but I have never felt it, this way." He looked at the other Elf desperately, hoping Rafél would understand. "There are certain things you will have to teach me, of love, of life. And I am willing to learn. Just…" he closed his eyes, focusing at his spirit within. "This is so new to me. Every emotion is so raw. Like my _fëa_: it sings of things I know nothing about, and I cannot understand, nor control it…"

Rafél smiled, remembering distantly the same feeling from his own youth. Elves love strongly, and the first time – usually the last, as well – is overwhelming in strength. If he guessed right – and he had a feeling he knew this quite well – Legolas had never loved. As a youth, long time ago, Legolas had made a promise that he would wait until he met the right one for him. _I wonder if he waited this far? Only time will tell, I think. Either way, there is much for both of us to learn.._ Closing his own eyes, he allowed his _fëa_ to touch the one next to his.

Legolas gasped, his body shuddering. The mere _feel_ of Rafél's emotions and spirit were amazing, and he knew he was sensing only a small part of them. And above all else stood the other's love for him. It was like a bright light that shone on him, filling his own dark corners with new strength and will to go on. There were tears in his eyes as he opened them, but he did not care. Lifting his hands, he circled them around Rafél's neck, kissing the other with all the passion he had. He felt the reaction in his spirit, the other's _fëa_ surging to surround his, closing him into some warm, heavenly bliss.

After a long moment, they halted, just breathing in the fresh air and holding each other. Legolas was still shuddering and felt almost dizzy with warmth. He thought he would have collapsed if Rafél had not held him up. He was still able to feel the other's presence, constantly next to his. _Either something has happened recently, or I have been too ignorant to notice this never before_, he mused, pressing his forehead against the guardian's shoulder. _Valar, I must have been blind… Numb…_

"We should get ready. The lunch…" Rafél tried, but as Legolas made no move, he guided the other to sit on the bed. He kneeled before the younger Elf, eyes worried. "How do you feel?" he asked with genuine concern in his voice.

Legolas smiled dreamily, shaking his head. "I am fine… Better than that... Just give me a moment…" he made a vague movement with his hand.

Rafél thought he finally understood, his _fëa_ checking Legolas' spirit for any possible hurts. He smiled, sitting beside the Prince on the bed. "They are strong first, the emotions. But you will learn to know them, and control them."

Legolas nodded then looked at Rafél. His eyes were regaining their sharpness, his thoughts gathering themselves into an understandable order. After he felt somewhat coherent, he got up and changed his clothes. When he was done, he took Rafél's hand, drawing him up. "Food," he uttered, and they headed out for the lunch.

**

* * *

**

Rafél stared at the darkening night, standing on the balcony of the room he shared with Legolas. He could hear Legolas' voice from the next room, laughing and chatting with the Dwarves. Aragorn was there, also, though the Man would soon join to his kinsmen and Rivendell's twins.

The lunch had been uneventful, after the first set of glares that had been directed at them of being late. Gandalf had soon excused himself and went for his own errands – probably locking himself into the famous library of Imladris until he reached some kind of a decision of what they would do. Dwarves had taken a tour through Rivendell, while the Elves separated on their ways and Men gathered in the Hall of Fire, soon joined by the others. Celeborn, who had arrived from East Lórien some days ago, had received a full account of the events that had taken place during their journey. Erestor – considering the look he was wearing – had also heard the same story, and was not happy about the things he had heard. Few were, to be honest. Rafél himself would have left much undone, had it been in his power.

"Good night" –calls were given, and after a moment Legolas entered their room, closing the door soundlessly behind him. He waited by the door for a moment, expecting the other to greet him, but as Rafél did not move he made his way through the room to the other's side. "Your thoughts are dark."

"So are the moments we are living," came the hollow, distant answer.

Legolas frowned, taking a defensive step back. "What?" Without saying, he knew this was something about him.

Rafél sighed, stepping inside. He closed the doors, drawing the curtains in front of them. Slowly he turned to Legolas, easily reading the other's guarded expression in the glowing light of a lonely lamp on the other side of the room. "'_Why he asked me to search the_ Ten _instead of the_ Nine_._' This is something Thaíly wished me to think of, while he is gone. I have, for my time, and I haven't reached an answer." Rafél's voice was cold, clearly signalling he would not tolerate a lie, not an attempt to slip away from the subject. He demanded an answer.

Legolas took another step back. He tried to ignore the dark voice that had began to whisper on the back of his mind, but it was difficult as he _knew_ it to be there. "Maybe there is no answer," he offered. Rafél did not move, but the way his stare hardened told the Prince he was playing with fire. "I do not know!" he shouted, cold fear gripping his insides suddenly. "That is why I set him out to find out."

"Who rides with the Nine? Was he there, at the Shire? I did not see him…" Rafél halted, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to his temple. After he caught the memory, he returned his stare to Legolas and dropped his hand. "He was not in the Shire, was he? But he _was_ in your dream. When you struggled against the darkness," he clarified; his hand touched his chest in a place Legolas had his own wound. Legolas shook his head, his eyes turning wide. But Rafél knew Legolas did not deny his words: he denied some dark calling inside himself. "He was the same who made you to look at the _palantír_." It was no longer a question.

A sound that had been a whisper turned into a scream in Legolas' mind. The hissing voice multiplied and turned into a roaring noise, drowning his thoughts. Pain assaulted his body all the way up to his back. Unable to lift his defences that seemed to be paralyzed, he fell to the floor in a trembling heap, sobbing through his tears, as his lungs seemed to be burning with pain.

Rafél felt it before Legolas collapsed, and he was beside the younger Elf in a moment. The other's skin was cold, clammy under his touch, yet his back seemed to be burning, even through the clothing. Rafél did not have to look to know that the scars of Balrog's whip marked the skin there. Gathering Legolas close to his body, he unleashed his _fëa_. After the bond already made between them, he needed no time to get inside.

What Rafél met was an immense wall of darkness.

His shock lasted only a moment, anger surfacing and conquering the fear. The light within him attacked the darkness without another thought, driving it back a fraction. Rafél felt the impact thorough his whole body and he blinked in dismay. Legolas clung into him desperately; his breathe was shallow and pained, eyes closed tightly. Then the younger Elf screamed, shivering maddeningly.

A breeze moved the curtains. Rafél looked up, knowing he had closed the doors. The next move of air was stronger, blowing out the lamp. Light disappeared. Shadows shifted, then moved forth. Hissing sounds and distant voices, empty of words, filled the air. Darkness moved outside, but it was nothing compared to what was inside.

**

* * *

**

Gandalf sat in the library, head buried to his hands. Hours ticked away, and he was no closer to the source of their problem. He had talked to many people, prying out every last drop of detail and information. It was no use. He had no answers. _Legolas is the last of my hopes. Yet it might be too early for him, taking into consideration that he has faced both Balrog and Nazgûl recently._ But as every alternative road had been used, the only solution he could find was to speak with the Elf. _Tomorrow. I will speak with him tomorrow. Tonight, we all shall rest. You as well, old man_, he noted to himself, feeling the already familiar weariness take over him. He was no longer young, nor was his form.

Sudden change in the air made him lift his head. A frown appeared to his forehead, deepening as he thought he sensed something. Glancing at the window, he saw only dark night. _I must be getting delusional. I am seeking for the answers so hard that I try to make them up from thin air…_

When the feeling came again, there was no mistake: it was real. It was pure. Evil.

Gritting his teeth against the pain that washed over his mind, Gandalf lifted himself from the seat, leaning heavily on his staff. Breathing with difficulty he made his way out of the door, knowing without thinking were he was supposed to go. He had felt this before, though he had thought it destroyed. _What a fool I have been! Underestimating the evil standing against you is the last of your mistakes! You will pay of that with your life – or someone else will._

The Wizard reached the door he was seeking, stopping before it to gather his strength. He was able to hear voices, people running towards him. _It is high time for them to feel it_, he mused, then put his hand on a doorknob. The door did not open. Someone screamed inside.

"What is going on?" Thalión was the first to reach the Istari, his eyes immediately locked at the door. His face went pale, all remaining colour draining from his features. "Legolas…" he whispered brokenly, and tried to move to the door.

Gandalf shoved the Elf back roughly. "Do not! This is beyond your power, and you might just make it worse. Now stand back, all of you!" he commanded as the rest of the company halted in the corridor. Dwarves were also rushing to the hallway, looking alarmed and ready for a battle.

"What is going on?" Gimli demanded to know, but another scream from the room cut him off from further questions.

Gandalf did not answer in words. He lifted his staff, pointed the closed door before him, and said one words. With a burst of blinding light, the door fell apart.

Something hissed and drew back from the opening. It was as if the darkness itself was moving, shadows filling the air like smoke. Elves cowered back in alarm, some of them holding their heads in pain.

Gandalf moved forth, his entire being shining with light as he entered the dark room. Lifting his staff over his head, he said another word. Light flashed, shadows drew back – but returned immediately. Gandalf gripped his staff harder, then shouted out the same word. Light exploded. Shadows drew back, then faded as another source of light attacked them. Hissing voices echoed in the room a long time after the darkness faded.

Slowly the light also went out. After Gandalf had lowered his staff, a lonely light shone from the other side of the room. Walking to it, Gandalf kneeled beside Rafél, trying not to squint his eyes in the other's light. Legolas lay against the older Elf, blood flowing from his lip where he had bitten down on it. His eyes opened, gazing up at Gandalf with confusion.

Rafél sat unmoving, barely breathing.

"Rafél?" Gandalf called out softly, touching the other's temple. The skin was feverishly hot to his touch. "Rafél?" he said with more force.

Legolas struggled to sit up, his movements disoriented. But his will to help his guardian was greater, and he finally managed to sit up. Hands tightened around him, Rafél holding him close with as much power as Legolas had possessed before. "Rafél? Please, come back," Legolas whispered brokenly, tears escaping from his eyes. His hands reached to touch the other's face, trembling. "Do not look. Please, just come back. Do not look!" he ended his pleading with a desperate shout.

A moment of still silence seemed endless to all of them.

Rafél's eyes flew open, his lungs taking a desperate breathe of air. His eyes were dilated and dark, as if still focused on some other vision. Legolas buried his head to Rafél's chest with a sob, crying silently. The guardian glanced at waiting Gandalf, his stare almost haunted as he met the worried grey depths. Holding Legolas almost desperately, he let out a whisper, repeating the same, three words over again: "I saw Him. I saw Him…"

**

* * *

**

Breakfast was served early on the next morning. The Hobbits looked half-asleep, stuffing food into them rather with a habit than with awareness or desire. The others around the table did not look good either, most of them been awake the rest of the night after the accident in Legolas' room. Neither Legolas nor Rafél were present, Gandalf and Celeborn watching over them with the help of Rivendell's healers.

Gandalf had decided to keep a council on the morning, and both the guardian and his Prince were expected to join the event. Everyone knew this was the day when Gandalf would find his answers – in a way or another.

"Do you think he can take it?" Gimli asked thoughtfully. "The meeting might turn harsh, and after the last night…" he shook his head, eyes tired.

Aragorn made a sound on his place beside the Dwarf. "Gandalf knows what he is doing. And there are many who will see for Legolas' wellbeing." His words of course meant both of them, as well as of all the Elves in the table.

"Star-eye is going to be well, right?" Fundal asked, unconsciously using the nickname again. He had barely touched his food, nor had he slept at all after he had seen Legolas carried out of his room.

"He is an Elf," Adír said to the youth, his voice softer than one could have believed from a Dwarf. "Of course he will be well."

Fundal nodded, but did not look convinced. Asthaldo gave him a sympathising look across the table, leaning a bit closer. "He is going to be fine, like Adír said. Some sleep and they shall both be fine. Gandalf is a Wizard, after all, and this is a house full of healers." He glanced at Aragorn, then at Glorfindel. "They will be all right…" he muttered, turning back to his own food. He used more time into stabbing it with his fork than actually eating, but none rebuked him of it: few of them had any of their appetite left.

After finishing with breakfast, they made their way to the Hall of Fire. Everyone sat down, waiting for the rest of their companions to arrive. Even Pippin and Merry had woken up now, realising they might finally get some answers, or at least _some_ news.

It took several minutes of waiting before there were voices from a corridor nearby. Gandalf appeared in sight with Celeborn. The Wizard had his head bowed and he listened closely to the Elven Lord's words, nodding now and then. "… Dol Guldur has turned dark again, and my people are afraid to venture far in the forest. As much as I have heard, Thranduil is still unnerved by the situation, but keeping his people closely in the caves…" Celeborn ended his speech, gazing steadily at Gandalf.

Gandalf frowned, but nodded. "At the moment, I do not know what to expect from him. Thranduil has always been unpredictable, but in the wake of such events…" he fell silent and looked back along the corridor, stepping aside as Legolas passed them.

The Prince looked pale and tired, his glance kept down as he entered the Hall. Many of his friends stood up, but sat back down as Celeborn signalled them to do so. Legolas halted near the doorway of the corridor, lifting his gaze to run it over familiar faces. He gave both Gimli and Aragorn a small smile, the Elves seeing more in his eyes than in expression. A moment later Rafél appeared from, halting behind Legolas. He whispered something, and Legolas nodded, making his way to a free place. He sat down, Rafél remaining standing behind him, a comforting hand set on the Prince's shoulder shoulder.

Rafél looked even worse than Legolas, but somehow he was able to maintain his upright bearing. His eyes were dark and face pale, yet he did not seem as exhausted as the younger Elf. He eyed the people filling the room then returned his eyes on Gandalf, who now stood alone in the middle of them; Celeborn had already taken his place among his kinsmen.

"We are all here," Gandalf began, making sure that everyone had arrived. "Good. I think we all know why we have gathered here – and in the case someone does not," he glanced at the Hobbits, "we shall soon learn the reason." His eyes fell upon Legolas this time. "I will not make this any longer than necessary, for some of us are in a desperate need of rest." He eyed the others, almost smiling. "Though each and every one of us could use a few hours of sleep," he added wryly. "As you all know," he continued, voice stronger and firmer this time, "I was sent back to Middle-earth. About the reasons of my return, I can tell you this: a new evil has risen. I do not know exactly what it is, yet, but I am beginning to have my suspicions." He changed looks with Celeborn, who nodded. "Of what I have learned, darkness has strengthened its hold both in Dol Guldur and Mordor. What this means, I cannot be sure.

"What we do know, for certain, is that someone killed the Queen of Gondor – possibly to prevent Aragorn from having an heir. Someone sowed the seeds of suspicion and hatred into the mind of Men so they drove the Elves away from Ithilien. Someone attacked Woodland Realm, destroying it almost completely; someone powerful enough to summon a Balrog." Silence was almost touchable around him, many sympathising eyes turning to Legolas. "Elves are making their way to Havens as we speak, though we all can understand their reason to leave," Gandalf continued, sadness touching his features. It was replaced by anger as he continued: "Someone also attacked the Shire. And somehow, the Nazgûl have been awoken – stronger than ever."

"Stronger?" Merry asked with a shaky voice. "How is that possible? Were they not supposed to be destroyed with the Ring? Does this mean that the Ring was _not_ destroyed, and that we all suffered in vain?"

"Honestly, I do not know," Gandalf said softly. "We cannot know if one enemy is behind of all these actions, or are we attacked by many. But what I have learned," he glanced at Legolas again, "it that Sauron has made an appearance. More than once."

"Sauron?" Aragorn demanded, looking from the Wizard to the Elf. "He was destroyed. And why has none mentioned this before?"

Gandalf gave the Man a warning glare, his eyes falling back on Legolas who seemed even paler than before. "It is possible he still lives. _If_ he somehow survived the destruction of the Ring. Perhaps we misplaced our faith..." The Istari fell silent, frowning.

"Why would Sauron do any of this?" Éomer finally spoke up as no other did. "What is his profit of all this?"

"Besides getting us confused," Gimli supported the Man gruffly.

"Sauron would profit nothing of actions like this," Glorfindel answered. "Closest thing that comes to my mind is a personal revenge to those who destroyed him: the Fellowship of the Ring. Arwen, Woodland Realm, Shire…"

"What about the Dwarves?" Adír asked.

"I think it hurt me enough to be in Woodland Realm when it was destroyed, and get almost killed in the process," Gimli concluded.

"It still makes no sense…" Aragorn muttered. "What in all this points at Sauron?" he asked, voicing a question they all wished to ask.

"They have a right to know," Celeborn said slowly, his eyes on Gandalf. "This touches all of us."

Gandalf nodded, stepping closer to Legolas. "It is time, Greenleaf. You refused to tell me as much as I would have desired to know, but for the sake of your friends, you have to speak out now."

Legolas looked up at the Wizard in indecision and then shook his head. "I… I cannot. I do no know." His pleading eyes flew at Celeborn.

Rafél shifted, his eyes locking with Gandalf. "It is too early," he muttered.

"No," Gandalf said with a dark voice, "it is too late. The grip of darkness has a hold of him, and prevents him from speaking. It fills him with uncertainty, hiding the obvious answers from his thoughts." There was a frustrated look on his face as he shook his head, fingering his beard. "This much I have learned: you were lucky with your 'vision'."

"Lucky?" Aragorn asked.

"Yes, for it was no vision. There was no dream, but the nightmares it left in its wake. We shall speak later of those dreams. What puzzles me most is how Legolas was able to see what he saw, in the _palantír_." There was a shocked silence, Aragorn paling visibly as he turned to stare at his friend. Legolas had closed his eyes, pressing his face to his hands. "He looked at the _palantír_ that night, and to our fortune, things happened like with Pippin: he saw a glimpse of the enemy's plan. He had enough senses to tell you enough so you moved out, and possibly saved the Hobbits from a certain death." He halted, pondering something. "As, and when you go back to Gondor," he turned to Aragorn, "make sure that the stone is locked away from _all_ who could use it. We cannot risk that someone might look at it. If Sauron is truly alive, he might be able to control the Stones as before." Aragorn nodded, his face grave, and Gandalf turned back to Legolas again. "Yet few things still remain as a mystery. For what does Sauron need Legolas? If we assume we are dealing with the Dark Lord, that is. However it is, this evil is for some reason connected to Legolas. How, I can only imagine, but most of all I want to know _why_. There lie all the answers."

"So we do not know what kind of an enemy we are facing, nor the reasons of it?" Gimli concluded unhappily. "You speak of Sauron, but you cannot be sure. It might be as well be an imposer, leading us astray from the real goal."

"Remember the Nazgûl," Erestor reminded sternly.

"I do, yet none of this makes any sense. Could it be that we are facing multiple foes at once? Ones, who might have been allied against us?" Gimli pressed on.

"It is as likely as any other option at the moment," Gandalf answered.

Pippin opened his mouth, but several voices drove over his, and he sat back with a sigh. Anger mingled with tension and weariness, turning the discussion into a verbal fight, all sides trying to collect their thoughts and ideas.

Legolas stared at his friends, wishing to cover his ears from the noise. His eyes met Pippin's, reading the helplessness there. Glancing back at the arguing people, Legolas made his decision. Winking at Pippin, he stood up abruptly, making most of the people hush immediately. Silence was soon to follow, and with a satisfied smile, Legolas gestured at Pippin. "I think he has something to say. Please, Master Hobbit." He sat back down, waiting expectantly.

Pippin got up to his feet, aware of the gazes locked at him. "Well, this is just my idea… It is probably worse than most of yours, but…" He swallowed and smiled at Legolas who was still looking at him. "We can do nothing more here than argue. Maybe you cannot see it, but this is exactly what _any_ enemy would wish us to do: fight among ourselves and do nothing. Instead, why don't we all separate to our ways, alarm our people, and then meet again? Surely in that time we gather more information, and then we are strong enough to actually do something. The enemy has an army, so I think we should gather one as well." He sat down hastily, glancing fearfully at Gandalf.

The Wizard was motionless for a while. Then a smile appeared to his face, and he shook his head. "I wouldn't have dared to guess there would be a day when Peregrin Took is giving me an advice to follow. Well spoken, Pippin, and good is your idea as well! It seems that the darkness has done more harm in us than I imagined. What say you?" he turned at the others.

"I think Pippin is right," Aragorn nodded. "We can do nothing like this, or here. Why not to go back home, muster our people, and get more information?" Éomer nodded, none of the Elves disagreeing.

"Very well. Now all we have to do is to count the days, and make our plans," Gandalf concluded. He turned at Rafél, bowing at him. "Now get your Prince to rest, and take some yourself. You will both need it."

Rafél smiled then walked after Legolas out of the room. It had been a stressing morning for both of them, especially as Gandalf had tried to find out all the information possible.

"You did not tell him of the Tenth," Legolas said as they were outside to others' hearing.

"You left many things untold – unable or not," Rafél said in turn.

Legolas halted, turning to Rafél. "It is not the same thing: you do not know of those things. I know he took you aside before I woke, making you tell of my dreams. But you never mentioned that _someone_ forced me to look at the _palantír_. You told nothing of him, even if he invades my dreams. Why?"

"You wished me not to," Rafél answered shortly. "Oh, you did not have to say it aloud. Like you never said that it was truly Sauron you saw in your dreams. But I have seen him myself now, and I do not need to guess anymore." He took a step closer. "One word from you, and I fall silent. But between us," he placed a finger on Legolas' lips, "I suffer no secrets." They stared at each other for a moment, Rafél's eyes searching the answer in the blue ones.

Legolas looked away first, tears in his eyes. Rafél sighed, leaning with his hands at the wall behind Legolas. "He was right, wasn't he? You cannot speak of it." A nod from Legolas was all the answer he needed, and with a look of surrender, he led Legolas to their appointed room to rest. He had a feeling they would both need all their strength, probably sooner than he hoped.

_to be continued…_


	35. Chapter 33: Parting Ways

**Chapter 33: Parting Ways**

New day opened as a clear one. Sky was blue and the clouds that travelled over its surface were as white as new snow. Only a slow, warm breeze of air swayed the leaves while caressing the Valley, and all was peaceful.

But in the Last Homely House, swift preparations were taking place.

"We shall meet before Firien Forest, in two months. Earlier, if possible. Each of our forces has Elves with them, and I trust them to be able to send swift messages if aught will happen," Gandalf spoke as he walked along one of the covered patios running along the outside wall of the main building. Aragorn and Éomer walked behind him, listening closely. They had been through this earlier, with everyone else, but Gandalf wished to go through everything yet again in his mind – and as was his habit, he did it while speaking to himself.

"It will be a long travel for the Elves of north," Éomer pointed out.

"And just like Dínnor said, the Elves move faster than us," Aragorn answered, smiling. Gimli had had his own opinion to say of the matter, yet to his luck, none of the Elves got offended: it would have meant him walking all the way to the meeting point. _'Elves are quick when you first _get_ them on the move.'_ In a way, Aragorn agreed with him: having wisdom like theirs, the Elves made no decisions hastily. In that, they were similar to Ents. _Though easier to negotiate with_, the Man smirked to himself.

Arriving to the courtyard, both Kings made a pleasant note that their men were almost ready to depart. Elves were gathered together, making their own preparations. Dwarves and Hobbits waited next to them, chatting with each other.

"It seems that however you come, your stay here is always short," Elrohir spoke up, walking to the arrivals. "We are ready to depart soon," he added, eyeing the Men. "They are learning to swift departures, I see."

Éomer laughed and nodded. "That is a skill we have learned to appreciate during our journey."

Behind them, new voices rose in a clear argument. "You cannot come with us."

"And who are you to stop me?"

"Erestor, be reasonable! You are no great warrior –"

"I have enough wits to rival your sword, any time! Now let me pass."

Turning around, the Men and the Wizard noticed Glorfindel, who was currently having a colourful fight with Erestor. "You are not coming."

"Again, you are not the one who shall decide."

Glorfindel opened his mouth, but Gandalf interrupted him before he got any words out. "He shall come, and is more than welcome."

With a triumphant look, Erestor strode past Glorfindel to get his horse. The Noldo looked unhappy, but succumbed to the Wizard's words without an argument: he knew better than to challenge Gandalf.

"Well, Rivendell is growing in number. I say that can be only a good thing," Elrohir smirked. "We are no longer beating only the Dwarves and the Hobbits in number."

Aragorn remained silent, his eyes seeking Legolas from the crowd. His friend stood beside his horse, apparently ready to leave. Rafél was next to him, one hand on his protégé's waist. Frowning, Aragorn narrowed his eyes. He had sensed something changed between the two, but he was not sure what. _After the last night's events, I am sure they are yet closer to each other. But there is something –_ He was interrupted as Faramir appeared, bowing at them before speaking.

"We are ready to depart. Lord Celeborn asks if we shall hold one final debate before departing."

Gandalf nodded, motioning the others to join them. When everyone had gathered close, he brushed his beard and began: "I think we had better to go through this once again. Within two months, we shall all meet at Firien Forest. If anything unexpected happens, inform the others immediately." Everyone nodded, Hobbits looking slightly nervous. "Gather as much information and force as you can," Gandalf continued, rather to the Elves and the Dwarves. "All your people will be needed, if we are going to beat this enemy – whatever it is. Any questions?" Silence followed, and Gandalf nodded. "Good, let us not waste more time here."

Everyone moved to their horses, Men taking their places on the head of their forces. "Be swift on your way, and may no evil waylay you on your road back home," Elladan called out, the Cousins lifting their hands to their hearts in recognition.

"Be careful yourself, even if your number is greater," Dínnor said in return. Adír, who sat now behind him, snorted. Fundal smiled in his place behind Asthaldo, trying to remember the words said.

With a call from Gandalf, the army moved out, soon dividing in two different directions: Mirkwood Elves took a swiftest road home, over the mountains. Men would take the road through the Gap of Rohan, and Éomer would remain in Rohan when Aragorn went on to Gondor. Rivendell Elves would go with Aragorn, as would Gandalf. Lórien's forces would decide later which group to join: Celeborn could not afford more forces from their kingdom, as the darkness again spread from Dol Guldur. Also Merry and Pippin would decide either to go with Aragorn, or stay with Éomer.

Soon the two groups disappeared from each other's sight, making their ways toward each destination, uncertain what was waiting for them in the end.

_to be continued…_


	36. Chapter 34: Suspicions and Uncertainty

**Author's Notes:** Hello again, and welcome! We are, once again, one step closer the unravelling of the dark secrets of this story – yet not quite there! From this on, the plot turns ever more hectic and dark, so prepare: a lot of action, pain, anguish and darkness are coming – if not in this chapter, then in those to that follow ;) Keep your senses sharp, or it might catch you unawares!

This chapter is a good sign of what the future beholds. Stay along, and you shall eventually find out what really looms in the shadows!

Read, enjoy, and **review**! That is the best way I can learn that I am doing the things a right way. For those who have already left a comment, I give huge thanks! You give me enough push to continue swifter than I otherwise would, and it is always nice to hear a second opinion. Or a third… ;)

Now, let the darkness _truly_ begin!

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**Chapter 34: Suspicions and Uncertainty**

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**A Few days later,**  
**Gap of Rohan**

Aragorn didn't know which God to thank of their safe, uninterrupted journey. They were reaching Rohan with a good speed, and with less trouble than any of them had expected. _Yet we all are waiting, expecting for the difficulty to ensue_, Aragorn thought. A grim smile appeared to his features, his eyes gazing at the land around them. The Elves were scouting ahead, but by far, they had neither seen nor felt anything alarming. And Elves rarely missed any movement of an enemy. _However, this enemy seems to have skills to worm its way right to our rear._ The thought did not make him any happier, most of his high spirits diminished by this.

Gandalf must have been thinking along the same lines as the Wizard kept frowning and tugging his beard in thought, sometimes lifting his gaze and checking their surroundings yet again. He was not restless – but not completely at ease with their fortune, either.

"If this is the calm before the storm, remind me to mark it for further events," Éomer muttered beside Aragorn.

"Why do you Big People always worry about everything?" Pippin enquired, munching an apple Faramir had found for him. "See! It is a beautiful day, sun warming us nicely, nothing alarming is in sight, and we are moving on quicker than we thought possible. Why to linger on gloomy thoughts?"

"True," Faramir stated, thoughtful. "But serenity like this tends to end far too quickly – and with little warning. We must be on our guard at all times, especially when we do not know what our enemy plans to do next."

"It would be fun to know _what_ our enemy is," Merry voiced his own opinion. "Everyone speaks of Sauron, yet none seems to believe that!"

"We do not want to lean on a wrong assumption," Aragorn explained. As unhappy as he was about the same fact, he knew it would turn disastrous if they assumed too much, too early – especially if it turned out that they had been entirely wrong with their fears. "It is better to progress with caution, and end up victorious."

"True words," a deep, heavily accented voice came from behind them, Celeborn joining to the discussion. "As fondly as I remember that young Ranger, I come to respect the Man grown of him even more," he smiled at Aragorn.

The King bowed his head, lifting a hand to his heart. "I've had great teachers, my Lord."

Celeborn nodded. "Indeed, yet that does not necessarily mean that you _learn_ anything from them."

"I have made my mistakes – and learned from them," the Man answered grimly. Suddenly he sat up in his saddle, his eyes narrowing as he stared ahead of him. The others directed their eyes to a same line with his, immediately realising what was wrong: several Elves came over a small rise, galloping towards them.

Haldir halted his horse in front of the others, the animal snorting with effort. His brothers stayed behind him, meeting the others' questioning glances with stoned expressions. No questions were spoken, for Haldir spoke first: "We encountered a small group of Men, some miles ahead of us. They come from Rohan. We asked their errand, for they were seemingly in a great hurry, and they spoke of an advancing enemy." His cool eyes turned to Éomer, something akin to a smile playing on his lips. "I have seldom seen people as revealed as when I informed them that their King is riding right behind us."

"Advancing enemy?" Celeborn asked, his face alarmed.

Haldir nodded, turning to his Lord. "They were not sure of the number, but one thing I got out of them: it is not an army of Orcs that is crossing Rohan. It is one of Men."

**

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**

It had taken a moment before Haldir's news sank in completely. It was followed by a swift ride to the place where the Twins waited with the small group of Rohan Men. Great indeed was the joy of those Men when they saw their Lord, and after another while, Aragorn, alongside his companions, was filled with all the information possible.

_More information we get, more confused we become_, the King of Men wondered as he rode in the head of the army. Elves had divided before them: some dwelling close to the army, others riding further to secure a safe passing – or return to warn their small army of any enemy. _There should be no worry that this strange army would appear before us. They have already passed Edoras, but it is still a long way until they come upon us. We shall reach the Helm's Deep safely before them, however swiftly they should move._ What would happen then, none of them dared to guess.

It seemed that this army from East was merely crossing the lands of the Horselords. No message had come from Gondor, which meant they had taken a path north from Aragorn's kingdom. Relieved as he was, Aragorn could not fight off the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. _What is the meaning of this? Where did this army come from, and what is their goal – or purpose?_ Gritting his teeth together, he fought off his pointless thoughts. He would only cause himself a headache like this. _I only wish that Legolas and his companions are having an easier road than we are currently facing._ That idea did not get him any more comfortable, and he turned his head to find someone to talk to. Not the last time in his life, he blessed the race of Halflings.

"Shall we stop in Helm's Deep?" Pippin's voice carried over the sound of hooves, clear in Aragorn's ears as Faramir was riding next to him.

"Yes," Aragorn smiled at the smaller being. "There we shall have more news, hopefully, and we can make our own plans."

The Hobbit nodded, looking down for a moment. "I know this is not a good moment, but… I am hungry."

Aragorn actually laughed, then turned at the miserable Hobbit. "When we reach Helm's Deep, you and your cousin can sit down to eat. A _proper_ meal. That's a promise."

Pippin's face lightened up and he tried to catch a glimpse of Merry, but the other Hobbit was on the other side of the army with Éomer. Faramir turned to look behind him, alarmed by the constant squirming. "You wouldn't happen to have any food in your saddlebag?" Pippin asked as he decided that finding Merry now was impossible. He could just as well seek to fill his empty stomach.

Faramir looked at Aragorn, then freed his other hand from the reins, smile on his lips. "You must be lucky today, because I thought of you when we packed for this day's journey," he stated as he dug out a piece of bread. Pippin took the offered food with a gratified smile, falling silent as he focused on staying on horse and eating his snack. "Do we have to ride through the night to reach the Deep?" Faramir turned back to his King.

Aragorn glanced at the sky, then at the mountains rising before them. "We should reach the Deep before dusk, with this speed."

Indeed, the sun was slowly disappearing behind the Misty Mountains when the army arrived to Helm's Deep. Men stood on the battlements, welcoming both the Men of their own people and those of Gondor with shouts and calls of horns. After the army was inside, the gates closed behind them.

The tension could be easily sensed in the air when the Kings' company halted their hoses on the courtyard. Armoured soldiers stood everywhere, people from the nearby village milling on the passageways. In overall, this all reminded Aragorn of the latest battle he had fought here, against Saruman's army.

An old woman passed their group, lead by a younger woman and a group of children. The youngsters stared wide-eyed to the shining armours and noble Men. The old woman, however, halted in the sigh of Elves that were just dismounting. "Dwimmerlaik," she hissed, eyes narrowing. Elves stared at her in wonder, and the woman dragged her away with many apologies.

"What was that all about?" Haldir questioned, turning to Éomer who stood beside him.

The King looked both amused and ashamed, lifting his hands as a defence. "It is a word that my people use of evil spirits." Haldir lifted an eyebrow, visibly not understanding. Éomer actually blushed under the Eldar's stare. "Among my people, especially the old, it is still believed that even the Ents and… the Elves are such spirits. Lothlórien seemed a cursed, forbidden place to us, at old times. Some of that superstition is still alive, it seems."

Haldir nodded hesitantly, then smiled. "I see."

Éomer glanced at Aragorn, uncertain what to do. He knew that an offended Elven-pride was not a thing to play with. Least of all he wanted to do was to anger the Fair Folk.

"Do not worry, Lord of Mark: we understand such beliefs, as we have not done much to dispel them, either," Haldir noted, still smiling. He glanced after the old woman, bowing at her graciously. The woman merely stared, then walked away with her family while muttering something in her own tongue.

Twins laughed, but were soon silenced by a harsh glare from Celeborn. "Right," Elladan mumbled. "Shall we find some news, now? And perhaps some food," he added, glancing at the Hobbits who seemed to be waiting for something.

"Good thinking," Gandalf chuckled. "Éomer, if you would kindly spare one of your men to guide these two to the kitchen," the Wizard pointed at Merry and Pippin. "The rest of us shall go and find some news."

"I will send my Elves out to scout for the enemy," Celeborn informed the others, Haldir already back on his horse. His brothers, Ithika, and Khai soon followed.

"Very well," the Wizard nodded. "Search for any sign of the enemy, but do not risk anything." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then spoke again, "If anything alarming appears, we must send a word to the north."

"I can do that," Khai volunteered, glancing at the sky. "A hawk is quick enough, when I am able to find and summon one. The only problem will be that Legolas' group might have not reached Eryn Lasgalen yet."

"We shall worry about that later," Celeborn decided. "Now go, and be back with as much information as you can collect." With that, the five Elves rode out of the citadel, gates opening smoothly before them, just to be closed again after their passing.

"One of my captains will soon come to speak with us," Éomer spoke out, just having received a message through one of his soldiers. "He arrived with a small force from Dunharrow, and is capable of telling us more than anyone else."

Gandalf looked happy at this, walking to an edge of a parapet they were standing on. He looked far over the land already covered in darkness, wondering how soon Haldir would lead his group back. Darkness was no more an enemy to the Elves as the light of the day, but recently the nights had begun to have a dark, evil feeling. _You are getting delusional, again. Get a grip of your mind, old man! You stood in the midst of darkness jut a few days ago: it is no wander, if the feel of it remains in you._ But the sensation did not pass, and he had a feeling this was not about his encounter in Legolas' room. Something was watching them, constantly, and at night that something grew in strength. Dark was no longer an ally to them.

"Gandalf?" Aragorn called out carefully, stepping to stand beside the old man.

Gandalf shook his head, lifting his hand to maintain the silence. He thought he had heard something.

"The captain is here now," Aragorn dared the silence, only to be hushed again.

"Listen," the Wizard commanded. The discussion behind them died out immediately, some of the Elves must have heard the Istari's words.

Aragorn's brow furrowed, his eyes gazing the darkness. "Is that…"

"I am not sure," Gandalf said darkly, turning to the Elves behind them. "What do you hear?"

Elladan and Elrohir closed their eyes to focus on the possible sound, but Glorfindel lifted his hand instead. "Lights," he said, pointing out to the darkness. "They are still far, but you can see them if you look closely."

Indeed, there were lights in the darkness. Not only one – not dozen – but hundreds of them. "I think I can hear marching," Elladan frowned, his brother nodding. "Is that the army we have heard about?"

"I am afraid, yes," Celeborn uttered quietly, staring at the darkness. He closed his eyes for a moment then nodded. "Haldir is returning. He will approach the gates soon."

Éomer nodded, giving an order to open the gates. Only a few minutes later five horses entered, their riders guiding them back to the place they had left a while ago.

"That was quick," Elrohir noted, receiving a half-smile from Ithika.

"We did not think them to be this close," the Lórien Elf answered, calming his breath. "The army is great, and moving with speed. I wonder how they have been able to maintain such a pace, all this way."

"They halted at times, when a village came to their path," the Rohan captain said carefully. All eyes turned on him. "They do not attack villages far from their path, but they drive away the people – killing those who stay and fight – and take all items that are useful to them before burning the rest. Several villages were emptied in a fear of their arrival."

"How great is their force?" Glorfindel asked, frowning.

"Great," Haldir said. "It was difficult to tell, in the darkness, but several thousand. Eastern people, as we have guessed. Men, every one of those we saw."

"Where are they heading now?" Faramir asked carefully, not sure if he desired to hear the answer.

"Here," Haldir said firmly, his eyes dark. "We came across few of their scouts. They did not see us, but we heard them speak 'of the arrival of _Kings_'." His eyes gazed briefly at Aragorn and Éomer. "They passed Gondor and Edoras, because there were no Kings."

"Perfect," Aragorn muttered. Things were just beginning to look darker than ever. They were now caught in the Helm's Deep, facing an enemy of whose full strength or motives they had no knowledge of. _Fate has a funny way to repeat itself_, he thought bitterly. _Only this time, there are more open questions than the last time._

In the distance, more lights appeared in the darkness and the sound of marching feet drew steadily closer.

_to be continued…_

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**Author's Notes:** Ah, this is a good place to look _The Battle of Helm's Deep_ again! I am no Tolkien, or Peter Jackson, so you might get better entertainment from the movie or the book ;) But, try to enjoy, when the battle begins! Or shall there be a battle at all? Who are these Men from East, and what do _they_ want of our heroes? Stick along, and you shall eventually find out.

In the next chapter, we shall jump along with Legolas and his companion. They will make some discoveries on their own, and we shall meet some old friends. Until the next chapter, _namárië_!


	37. Chapter 35: Follow the Leader

**Author's Notes:** It has been a while, again, and I am sorry for it! Yet here I am, presenting you another chapter! Not much action here, though some re-unitings are in order (to my beta, Kitt, this should be something to look forward to ;) I hope you others enjoy, too!

The next chapter, _Fatal Mistakes_, shall be full of action, so let us gather our breath in here: there is no chance for that in a near future! (Promises, promises, I know… but I am trying to keep them, you know!)

Now then, to the chapter itself! Enjoy, as usual! And remember to review. I am ever thankful to those who have! You give me reason to hurry on, and you are such an encouragement! _Hannon_ to all of you. #hugs and bows#

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")…(" Sindarin

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**Chapter 35: Follow the Leader**

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**Eastern side of Misty Mountains**

At the same time when their friends were nearing the Gap of Rohan, the other half of the company made their way down along a steep mountainside. The path was visible – at least for the eyes of both Elves and Dwarves – weaving down between rock and huge stones. All in the company were walking, moving on steadily and without hurry. They all knew what might occur while crossing a mountain in a rush. None wanted to end up with broken limbs or a twisted neck.

Gimli shifted his gaze to a side, not for the first time wondering how the horses were able to manage the terrain they were crossing: used to small ponies themselves, Dwarves usually picked up easier ways to travel, to enable their animals to survive the journey as well. This time, the Elves had made a decision of their route, and seemingly, they had known what their mounts could endure.

"One of them is going to end up with a broken leg," Adír muttered beneath his breath, tugging his light brown beard.

Gimli answered with a snort, fixing his eyes ahead of him. The horses were not the only thing to puzzle his mind.

A way ahead of the others, Legolas and Rafél walked together in privacy, side by side. If one stared at them long enough, one could see a light touch of shoulders, or an occasional brush of fingers against another. The guardian and his Prince had taken a habit of travelling close to each other ever since they had parted from Aragorn's group – though Gimli was sure this had taken place ever since their departure from Hobbiton.

"They look comfortable together," Asthaldo noted aloud, voicing a fact they all were thinking about.

"I think they have been so for a good deal now," Dínnor snorted, smile tugging his lips. "I only wish to know what is going on."

"Legolas' hair is braided differently," Gimli murmured, making the Elves turn to look at him in wonder. Lifting a heavy eyebrow, the Dwarf glared back at them. "I have spent enough time with Legolas to know exactly how he does his own hair – ceremonial or no." He left in unsaid that he, as well, had at times braided that smooth mane. "I am not as ignorant as you might think."

Asthaldo have a muffled laugh, looking back at the couple before them. "What do you think, Thalión?" he asked his cousin, knowing he was the most sensitive of them three.

"I say 'mind your own business'," Thalión snorted, though his eyes as well rested upon their comrades.

"Oh, come now!" Asthaldo practically whined, jumping closer to his elder playfully, "that look is absolutely dubious!"

Thalión merely pushed Asthaldo away, giving him a sideway glance. "Do not interfere, youth."

Asthaldo burst, trying to appear hurt. "Youth? _Youth?!_ You can highly call me one, after all our years together!" As Thalión made no reply – not even to join the sparring – Asthaldo narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "He _knows_ something."

"Naturally," Dínnor retorted. "He always does."

Thalión merely threw them a secretive smile over his shoulder, making the others hurry after him with new questions – of which none would be answered.

Ahead of the rather loud discussion, Legolas smiled, amused, his fingers immediately touched by the Elf on his side.

"Let them banter: it does not make them any wiser," Rafél decided, knowing they were in peace for a moment. A small distraction on the others' side proved them some private time, without several sets of eyes constantly burning their backs.

Legolas smiled, nodding. He did not fear Thalión spilling his information, either. Of all his companions, he knew whom to trust. That thought made him smile again, his _fëa_ shifting unconsciously towards its mate. Rafél drew in his breath beside him, casting a warning look at the younger Elf. Unable to resist the temptation, Legolas pushed his hands gently against the other's shoulder, whispering "Catch," in the process. Then he sprang off, eyes full of mirth.

Rafél knew this game, being familiar with it ever since Legolas' youth. Taking the challenge in full, he took after his protégé, both forgetting for a moment that their playground was not the safest possible. Yet their senses took care of that side, allowing them to focus on the chase.

The guardian took up with his Prince rather quickly, almost colliding to the other's back as he realised Legolas was no longer running. The Prince stood on a verge of a rather steep slope, unmoving. First Rafél thought Legolas might be hurt, but was soon proven against it: Legolas leaned against him, placing one strong hand on his chest. The blue eyes remained on the landscape before them, Rafél' brown ones soon following the other's line of sight. What he saw made him tense, his right hand reflexively reaching over his companion's waist, drawing him closer.

Legolas swiftly glanced at Rafél, his eyes dark and worried. Then they gazed at the land down before them again, sharp sight following movement on the ground far beyond mortal sight. Dark mass moved between river Anduin and forest once known as Mirkwood. There was no doubt what they saw, yet neither of them was willing to voice it.

Sounds behind them told that the rest of their company had arrived. "What is going on?" Gimli asked, eyeing the Elves carefully.

Dínnor walked to the edge of the slope as well, his eyes widening. "How can that be…?"

"Orcs," Legolas hissed, his eyes shining with loath.

"Where?" Fundal asked eagerly, pushing closer.

"Are you sure?" Adír asked, trying to decide if the dark patch on the side of the river was something that had alarmed the Elves. Gimli remained silent, knowing his eyes could hardly see what the Elves did. But he also saw the dark patch, and for a moment thought it was moving.

Thalión pointed down, confirming the eyes of the Dwarves. "They are moving south."

"I wonder if that is a good thing…" Gimli muttered, fingering his axe.

Legolas shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Even from the distance, the Elves were able to sense the evil creatures. Yet there was something else down there… Something that made his skin crawl and long healed wounds ache. His back muscles constricted, making him swallow to keep down a moan when pain flared anew in the long scars marring his backside. He also swallowed a curse as Rafél turned worried eyes on him. _Of course he notices: he is standing close enough to hear my heartbeat, not to speak of the connection we share…_

"What is it?" Rafél asked, bowing his head down, touching the other's forehead quickly. Legolas was in pain of some kind, he knew it.

Legolas shook his head mutely, closing his eyes in obvious distress. Even if he felt the impact of evil, there was something new in this. _Each time before, when I faced darkness, it recognized me immediately. Now I have a feeling I am not even noticed…_ Shaking his head, he opened his eyes again, staring closely at the army. He felt the darkness there, pure in malice and strength. One glance at the others told him that they might suspect something great was moving past them, but he doubted they felt the evil as he did. _Something is out of place here. No shadows whisper in my mind, and there is no actual pain, nor a foreign power trying to consume me._ Could it really be he was healing? Or was this something else entirely?

"Las?" Rafél whispered again, his hand tightening around the other's waist. He no longer stared at the army, but to the Elf beside him. Something was out of place.

"Be at ease," Legolas finally whispered, leaning unconsciously to the other's embrace as the pain began to fade from his body. It lingered as a distant throbbing, but no longer made his senses reel. "I am well. Better than I thought, and it took me by surprise," he muttered, knowing only his guardian would hear his words.

Rafél frowned, but did not hunt the matter further. He would have his moment later. Right now, there were other things to decide upon.

"It is difficult to estimate their number," Thalión was answering Adír's question. "Several thousands, at least."

"What are we to do now?" Gimli asked, intently gazing at the moving shadow. Or so it seemed to his eyes, as he could not see as far as the Elves.

"We go on as planned," Adír answered, shrugging. "They are going south, so they should not trouble us."

Gimli nodded, but knew it was not that simple. His frown increased, and he addressed his friend to get a second opinion: "Legolas, what do you think?"

Waking from his small moment of thoughtfulness, Legolas blinked and stepped back from Rafél almost sheepishly. His eyes followed Anduin downstream, his fingers playing with an invisible arrow. "True, they are no harm to us. But they will be so to our friends." His eyes glimmered with worry as he thought about Aragorn's group, and their possible meeting with this enemy.

"So let us send them a word, and be on our way," Adír suggested.

"We might do just that, but what if the enemy does not head that far south? We would give them a warning for naught, and possibly disturb their own plans," Legolas countered the other's answer.

Dínnor shifted on his place, a cold smile appearing to his face. "You have already made your mind, haven't you?" It was not a question, though phrased as one.

"And who exactly made him a leader?" Adír demanded.

"He is a Prince on his own right," Gimli grunted, knowing that none of the Elves would stand on Legolas' way, even if his senior. Legolas was from the royal family of Eryn Lasgalen, a Lord in his own land. _And I think he has earned their respect thousand times over_, he concluded. _Moreover, I am just as eager to find out more about this army, before sending a word to our companions: there is not much we know of our enemies, and any piece of knowledge is welcome._

"I still do not agree. Our task was to warn our people, and gather forces," Adír disagreed.

"I am sure our people are already warned, in the case they have not fallen blind," Gimli calmed his kinsman. "And we have plenty of time to scout the enemy, as well as gather warriors."

Adír was defeated at last, for he did not dare to speak against his Lord. Fundal, on the other hand, seemed to be glad of this turn of actions: he had been afraid to be left home when the others would set out again to meet with their allies. Now he had some extra time to venture! "Shall we go now?" the youth asked, all but worried about the sudden appearance of this enemy force.

The others couldn't keep from smiling, and with a nod, Legolas stepped towards the path. "Let us be on our way! I still desire to reach home soon." _I am sure we all hope to do so, each for their reasons._ His own motives were plain enough: he wished to join with the survivors, his family, and most of all, speak with his father.

A glance at Rafél told the Prince that he was not alone with his thoughts. _Yet there are still things that are not suitable to be spoken off…_ His face darkened, _fëa_ clenching his heart in brief agony. He had not spared much thought to the fact that he had yet to meet his family with his awoken feelings towards Rafél. _Why do I feel so bad all the sudden? I knew all along that this was coming!_ A hand on his arm drew him from the thoughts, and he was not surprised to find his beloved's eyes upon him.

"Let it be for now," Rafél's voice was low, and it was not hard to guess he had put some thought on the matter as well. Yet, between two of them, it would be Rafél, who would feel the impact of the truth the hardest… "Let it be," Rafél repeated, this time also to himself. He would suffer the consequences when the truth came out, not before.

The small company made its way down the mountainside, all the time keeping an eye on the distancing army. By the time they arrived at the root of the Misty Mountains, even the Elves had lost the enemies from sight. Day was passing slowly, heavy clouds shadowing the earth from the sun. Slight breath of a cool wind swayed the long grass, an irresistible call for the horses as the animals reached the even ground as well.

"I say this is all strange," Adír muttered unhappily, trying to stretch his already aching legs while attempting to give no hint of his discomfort to others. It was not suitable for a Dwarf's nature to show weakness – even if the others were suffering the same. "It is not the brightest of days, but it still makes me ponder why the Orcs are moving at this hour."

"Our life has been anything but normal, lately," Asthaldo huffed, rolling his shoulders. "All this evil, attacks all over, Gandalf's return, the Nazgûl…" He had no need to continue, as everyone knew what events he was referring at. "The last thing I would start to muse is why the Orcs are travelling in daylight."

"Their boldness should warn us, if nothing else," Rafél muttered. His eyes scanned the visible marks of the army's passing. Even as they stood on the other side of the river, he could easily see trampled grass, broken twigs… Telltale marks of the Orcs' marching. "If we wish to follow them, I suggest us to move on," he continued, lifting his voice to catch the attention of others. "We can cross the river some distance south from here."

Legolas smiled, knowing that his desire to hunt the enemy would be followed: Rafél's authority was sparsely passed by any. Even Gandalf, years ago, had stated to the young Prince that he had a magnificent Elf as his guardian. _"His glory might be hidden, but in his youth, there were few who dared to go against him. Even your forefathers have shown him respect."_ Those had been Gandalf's words, the Istari's eyes glinting in the fire of torches as he had turned to look at the youth on his side. _"A crown on the top of one's head does not make one a King – nor a Lord, either. There are many who are fit to sit on a high throne, yet few ever do so. Hidden is the valour of those others, no crown revealing them."_ The way the Wizard had gazed at Rafél had told Legolas enough. _Yet even today, I have no idea what Gandalf truly meant_, Legolas brooded. _I have heard tales from Rafél himself, but he has never told me anything… significant._ Pursing his lips thoughtfully, the Prince summoned Morchaint closer, Gimli already at his side.

Even Adír was silent as they mounted and rode south, accepting this was the course of action they were going to take. Either it was a common agreement, or submitting to others. After another hour they found the crossing they were looking for, guiding the horses through the river carefully.

"And so I expected you to shoot a rope over the water, and make us walk along it like squirrels," Gimli joked, remembering his first visit to Lothlórien.

"We may do so, if you so desire, Master Dwarf," Asthaldo chided, smirking.

Gimli shot him a glare, tightening his hold on Legolas' waist as Morchaint sprang back to dry land. After they were all on solid ground again, they made their way along the visible trail of the enemy.

"How far ahead are they, what do you think?" Fundal asked from his place behind Asthaldo.

The Elf frowned, casting a look at his elder Cousin. Thalión answered his gaze, then halted his horse and landed gracefully before the animal had even fully stopped. Powder blue eyes searched the ground, fingertips caressing the moss. "I cannot be sure, but they are moving on with a good speed," Thalión answered, lifting his head as he still crouched on the ground. Frown appeared to his fair face, eyes adopting a distant look. "I am not sure, but if they are making their way to Dol Guldur…"

"Let us follow and see, then," Gimli huffed. "I have been forced to watch Aragorn crawl on the ground for hours, trying to guess the enemy's movements. Now as we have a visible trail before us, let us follow!"

Legolas chuckled, patting the Dwarf's thigh. "Remind me to tell that to our dear King Elessar, when we meet him again – I am sure he appreciates your… way of thinking."

Gimli snorted, shifting his axe. "Is it a fault of mine that his way of tracking is not into my liking?"

"Nay. Yet you could show respect, as Aragorn was able to keep us after Merry and Pippin."

"You could have done the same, eh? Just reach out with your senses and hunt down the Uruks?" Gimli countered, the idea hitting him out of nowhere. _How I never thought of this before? Elves can sense evil, so surely they can follow it as well._

Legolas smiled secretively, moving his great mount forth after Thalión had mounted his. "I just wished to see if Aragorn was able to keep us on the right path. If not, I could have always gently push him to the right direction." The Elf turned to throw the Dwarf a teasing glance as the Dwarf swore beneath his breath. "Truly, Gimli! Had I been able to do that, do you think Aragorn would have bothered to crawl all those miles?!" Silvery laughter followed the statement. "He has been raised among the Elves, and he surely knows what my kin can do. But I am honoured by your suggestion, so thank you. Someday, I might be able to do that on an open land. For now, I need trees, or many growing things to guide me forth."

Gimli did not look convinced, yet the apologetic look in the Elf's eyes spoke of truth. "But you _could_ do it?" He was not willing to give in just yet.

"He could, if the need be," Thalión answered instead of the Prince. Legolas lifted an eyebrow at that, gaping at the silver-haired Elf. "Oh come now! I and Rafél trained you well enough," Thalión snorted, rolling his eyes. "After this whole mess is over, we must pay a visit to Rohan, and do some re-training, it seems."

Legolas smiled at that, guiding his horse forth. _"After this mess is over…" Why __does__ thinking of that makes me nervous? Or is it just that what might lay before us before we get there._ Shedding off his uneasiness, he pushed his mind to the task at hand: it was a good way to ignore dark thoughts occupying his mind. He felt Rafél's knowing eyes on him, but did not turn to meet the other's stare. It was no longer needed between them, anyway: they could sense each other's emotions clearly enough.

Next few hours went by in silence, only occasional discussions taking place between them. The Elves seemed quiet and edgy for some reason, glancing at the forest on their left from time to time. Fundal had asked if there was danger in the shadows, but Gimli had hushed him, understanding only too well what bothered the eternal creatures: their home-woods stood beside them, inviting them with a song no mortal ear could catch. It must have been agonising to be so close to home, and yet unable to enter.

Gimli had at one point thought to suggest that they might move on in the shelter of the wood, but in the eyes of the Elves he saw something else beside longing: distrust. _Could it be that Eryn Lasgalen is Mirkwood again?_ the Dwarf pondered, turning his eyes towards the endless sea of trees. He shuddered, not knowing if it was caused by his Dwarven nature or some unnamed darkness that filled the air beneath the thick branches. _Whatever it is, it does not make the Elves feel any more at ease…_

Suddenly, when evening was already drawing upon them, the horses halted. The Dwarves looked around in confusion, yet the Firstborns made no move to explain the sudden stop.

"Surely we are not going to camp for the night?" Adír questioned. "It is Orcs we are hunting, for Valar's sake…"

Thalión made an angry movement to silence the other, his eyes narrowed. "We are not alone," he said beneath his breath, making the Dwarves struggle to make out the words. But the signals his body gave were enough to fill in the gap his hushed tone might have left, and the shorter creatures released their axes from their belts.

With a shared look, the Elves dismounted, helping the Dwarves to the ground. The horses moved back without any verbal command, visibly trying to stay silent. The Elves released their weapons, arrows placed on taut strings, sharp blades revealed from the sheaths. Dwarves pushed together, side by side, their ears trying to pick any sound possible. Yet the dusk was silent, not a breeze shifting the leaves.

_Whatever this is, our attackers are coming from the forest_, Gimli noted to himself, keeping a close eye on the Elves. It was certain they had a debate going on, though not a sound escaped their lips. But the way the depthless eyes moved told the Dwarf enough. _Again I must thank my time with Legolas… Else I would be already roaring at them to do something._ Glancing at his kinsmen, he knew the only thing that kept _them_ doing so was his own calmness. He signalled his companions to wait, suddenly realising Legolas was coming towards them.

"Cousins shall take into the trees and go forth. Rafél and I shall remain on the ground with you."

_So the danger is above?_ Gimli felt like smiling, but kept his expression in check. _Because if the attack would be coming from the ground, I am sure Rafél would be more than glad to take Legolas to the trees, instead of this arrangement…_ He nodded at the Elf, shifting the comfortable weight of his axe in his hands.

The Cousins dove into the increasing darkness, soon hidden by the thick layer of limbs. Fundal watched in awe as the lithe creatures moved with alarming speed. It was not the first time he saw Elves among trees, but the way they gracefully and fluidly moved on the branches was still something worth to wonder. A quick pat from Gimli woke him from his daydreaming, and again they all waited.

Seconds ticked by slowly, the air itself hushed and tense. Not a bird sang, and the shadows seemed to grow and reach out for the waiting warriors. Only the distant sound of Anduin running broke the silence.

Rafél cocked his head, frowning. He held his breath, reaching out with his senses, trying to read the movements of those approaching them. The Cousins were not far ahead of them, for some reason. _Yet perhaps it is better so, as we are already few in number_, the old warrior decided. Once again, he caressed a feathered head of an arrow in his hands. _I just hope we are not facing more than some scouts of the enemy…_ His thoughts were interrupted as something moved among the branches, coming from their right side.

The guardian immediately shifted to block a possible attack, moving himself steadily between Legolas and the approaching creature. This threat took them completely by surprise: they had sensed the enemies before them, or at least slightly on their left. _It seems a cunning mind is playing against us_, Rafél concluded. _And that someone approaching is silent enough to catch an Elf unawares!_

They waited in silence again, the movement above them stopped. Perhaps it was one of the Cousins, but none of those on the ground truly believed it.

Legolas narrowed his eyes, reaching out with his bond to the trees. He had been apprehensive to do so before, knowing well it would do him no good if they faced greater evil than random Orcs: he had no time for an inner battle at the moment. _I have started to learn of my mistakes, it seems. I wish that Rafél also sees this_, he thought almost childishly. Some months before, he would have boldly countered whatever was approaching them. Now he was cautious. After several clashes with evil, he knew it was a dangerous game to go forth without being prepared. _Or is it fear that keeps me at place?_ he pondered, not liking the idea the slightest.

A hint of something familiar met Legolas' seeking senses, making him blink in uncertainty. Rafél also sensed this, his stance changing in indecision. But before either of them had the message analysed, the approaching creature came forth – this time with no caution at all.

Rafél lifted his bow, yet the arrow never left the weapon as Legolas stepped at his side, his own bow aimed to the ground.

"Legolas!" The shout was all the warning the group got before the creature jumped to the ground, landing lightly on the moss. Yet the shout – a joyous one of that – had not come from the Cousins, but from the creature. Legolas blinked in surprise, then let his bow fall to the ground and met the newcomer halfway. The next second they were embracing each other tightly, laughing and gasping for breath.

"_)Daro!(_" came a shouted order from the original direction of the "enemies". In the trees, leaves were brushed against something, creating a whispery sound.

The Dwarves looked up to the canopy, then again at Legolas and the arrival. Gimli shook his head with a sigh, lowering the end of his axe to the soil resolutely. He, naturally, understood such a usual word of Elvish, and his eyes saw well enough in the shadows to recognize the one beside Legolas. "Shannai, for the wrath of Valar, could you ever consider a normal, proper approach?" the Dwarf lectured the Elf half-heartedly. Yet the smile tugging his lips betrayed his tone.

The addressed Elf drew himself arms-length from Legolas, still holding his friend tightly. "Surely, Master Gimli, that would be nothing like me, then."

"I guess not," Gimli gave in, now openly smiling. He lifted his eyes from the friends just in time to see a large group of Elves lower themselves to the ground, the Three Cousins among them. He recognised many, but only Thrénandu he knew by name.

"_)Ernil nîn(_," Thrénandu walked forth, bowing deeply before Legolas, hand upon his heart. "It has been long since we heard any news of you." Many things were left unsaid in that sentence, yet there would be time for them later.

"Indeed it is good to see you, Captain," Legolas smiled, bowing slightly in return. His eyes shifted to the Cousins, already finding out news from their kinsmen. "How come we were not informed it was _you_ approaching us?" he lifted an eyebrow, gazing back at Thrénandu.

The elder Elf looked sheepish, shrugging. "We did not know of you, either. It seems that both sides sensed the other approach, but did not take enough care to identify the threat." Light blue eyes met Legolas' carefully. "After the Dark Army passed us, we expected to meet remnants of them, not ones of our own."

"The shadows grow deeper with each passing day," Shannai agreed, his brow furrowed. "Ever since the attack, the days have been darker and the enemies have multiplied their strength."

"You say 'enemies'," Gimli halted the discussion. "There is more than one against us?"

Thrénandu shifted uneasily, angry eyes glancing at Shannai. Clearly there had been a slip. "We do not know much of the enemy's activity, as our King wishes us to remain inside the walls as much as possible." There was a strange light in the captain's eyes as he tried to decide what to say next. "But it seems there is a lot going on, outside our gates."

Legolas nodded carefully, knowing he would be forced to take Thrénandu aside if he wished to have a proper explanation. "How do our people fair?" he asked instead.

"Those who survived live on," Thrénandu said simply.

"Though all the settlements in the forest have been emptied," Shannai continued, earning another warning look from his commander. Showing no interest to heed the clear caveat given, the younger Elf went on, his eyes on Legolas. "It is not like your father to do something like this, on a long run. I understand if our people were gathered right after the attack – when he arrived. But this has been going on ever since. We do not strengthen our borders, we do not fight back the enemy which is practically leaning on our doorframe. We stay in the caves, and send out patrols only when additional supplies are needed." The light green of his eyes was darker than usual as the young warrior met his officer's gaze. "Then suddenly the King himself commands Thrénandu to take out a patrol and come on the other edge of the forest. He knew something would be here," he smiled, yet there was no warmth in it. "And we ran into you," he concluded.

"We sent no message," Rafél interfered, thoughtful look on his face.

Shannai nodded. "I guessed as much." His eyes fell upon Legolas again. "Did Thaíly reach you? It is a long time from the night I sent him after you."

Legolas smiled, drawing a deep breath. "I have encountered him a few times since then."

"Good, then," Shannai laughed, swiftly returning to his normal mood. "And it seems he was able to keep you safe, after all." He even dared to give the annoyed Rafél a wink.

"Whatever the King knew, or did not, when sending us here," Thrénandu continued on their previous subject, "I am sure there is only one thing I can do now: to see you back home safely," he addressed Legolas casually.

Instead of accepting this, Legolas shook his head. "Not just yet. We are hunting down the army you also saw pass. We have to make sure where they are heading at, and warn our friends to the south."

Thrénandu did not take this well, drawing in his full height. "With all respect, my Lord, that is something you should not waste your time in. Danger lies on that path. Therefore I must insist you to accompany me back to Woodland Realm."

"Do you insist, or is it an order?" Legolas challenged.

Thrénandu's eyes spoke volumes. "It is your King's wish," he mumbled.

"So Thranduil knew they were coming?" Shannai exclaimed. "How is that?"

None answered the warrior, two Elves sparring for victory. Warriors stared at their Prince and Captain, not knowing what to do. Surely, their Lord had the authority to command Thrénandu, but the commander had his orders straight from the King.

"I will return home as soon as I have uncovered the enemy's plan," Legolas finally broke the uneasy silence. It seemed to be his final statement.

Thrénandu opened his mouth to object, but Shannai chose to step in before he was able to say another word. "If I may remind you, Thrénandu: Legolas is _our_ _Prince_. It is our _duty_ to obey him, or at least see for his safety if we cannot persuade him to take a safer road. Therefore, we _should_ accompany him."

Thrénandu seemed to go through a vicious inner battle. The warriors held their breath, not daring to look this way or that, all staring at their leaders. Finally, the Captain sighed, bowing his head in recognition. "We shall follow you, my Lord. Yet a part of my warriors have to return to the main patrol, and deliver a message that our plans have been changed." He grimaced. "The King won't take this well," he muttered, turning and returning to his patrol.

Of the entire number of dozen, six Elves were sent back to the others. Thrénandu, Shannai, and four other warriors prepared to join Legolas and his companions.

While checking their supplies, Rafél approached Thrénandu. Taking a look around, the guardian made sure they were alone. "You gave in rather easily," he mused with a silent voice.

Thrénandu met Rafél's eyes, a rueful smile appearing to his face. "I have my reasons."

Rafél nodded carefully. "And they have nothing to do with Legolas' birthrights, do they."

"He _is_ my Prince, Guardian," the Captain seethed, seemingly unhappy. Yet Rafél knew it was not anger directed towards any of their company. That made him even more perplexed. Seeing the other's studying gaze, Thrénandu spoke again: "Thranduil returned only recently from another of those secret trips he has been attending. Only a day before he summoned me, that is, and gave me the orders to bring Legolas home. There was no question whether or not I would find the Prince. Of course, I was puzzled, but I am in no place to question the orders given to me.

"We left immediately, and not soon after we reached the western side of the forest – following our Lord's orders. We saw the Dark Army pass us." The Elf drew silent, his eyes dark. "They came from the north. From where, directly, I do not care." His eyes fixed on Rafél, he spoke slowly, pressing each word with care. "All I know is that Thranduil also came from north. It may have nothing to do with this army, but I am worried." He swallowed, seemingly nervous. Yet something akin to a shadow seemed to pass his eyes as he got the words out. "There is something unsettling in Thranduil's behaviour. I refused to see it before, but as Shannai pointed out so cleverly…" he smiled sadly, "we do nothing to defend ourselves. We merely sit and wait for them to come." There was no need to say 'whom' he meant.

Rafél chewed his lower lip, leaning against a tree behind him, arms crossed over his chest. "Odd things keep happening around us," he finally said distantly.

"I agree, old friend. Yet there is the fact that I _wish_ to follow Legolas, as I know he is…" the captain never finished, instead taking his weapons and joining the others.

'_Trustworthy.' Might that be the word you did not dare to speak?_ Rafél pondered as he again took his place beside Legolas.

_to be continued…_

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**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**

_Daro!_ – Halt!


	38. Chapter 36: Fatal Mistakes

**Author's notes:** Well, here we go again! This chapter continues where the previous left us: hunting an army with Legolas. Worry not, those who have their thoughts with Aragorn and his group: we will get there soon :) But first, some heart-clenching action… (at least I _hope_ it shall please you people! Let me know ;)

For all those who have already reviews: huge thanks! You have no idea what kind of an encouragement and aid you are. I feel a lot more confident when posting a new chapter. And to my beta, Kitt: I guess you do not know how much your work and thought mean to me #hugs and bows everyone# _Hannon lle_, once again!

As a chapter-theme: Apocalyptica's "Deathzone" (from the album "Apocalyptica").

")…(" = Sindarin

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**Chapter 36: Fatal Mistakes**

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The next day went on in peace. No threat exposed itself, and even Thrénandu seemed to carry himself with more liberation. None hunted the truth with questions, but all saw that the six Elves, who had recently joined them, were enjoying their time. Even if their task was grim and dangerous, it seemed to release the Elven natures back to their true form, after months of holding back.

And some did not even seem to understand the danger.

At least that was what Gimli very soon decided, as Shannai chatted away easily, playing his jokes as he always did. The only amusing thing in the whole situation – on Gimli's opinion – was the look on Fundal's face. The youth's eyes were practically glued on the Elf, staring wide and in disbelief. _And for a reason! Shannai is, after all, the most unexceptional Elf I have ever met. Though I think that any Elf would share my opinion, as well._ Shaking his head, he tried to ignore the fair voice. He did not dare to tell the Elf to shut up, even if he would have usually done so: Legolas was smiling and laughing, joking with his friend with abandon. It was a rare sight, and made Gimli smile as well. One look at Rafél and Cousins told the Dwarf that he was not alone with his knowledge. _Maybe things are turning to the better, after all._

"Is he always like… well… like that?" Fundal asked with a whisper, making Gimli turn his head to the youth's direction. They were all walking, the horses out of their line of sight. The Elves had said that the animals needed their rest, and they could continue on foot. Four other horses had joined them this morning, now accompanying the five that had come all the way from across the Mountains. They were a small pack of wild horses, now and then ridden by Elves in need – like today.

"Shannai?" Gimli snorted. "Yes, though he is quite reserved still. I have seen worse," he winked at the puzzled Dwarf beside him. Fundal shot him a suspicious look, making Gimli roar with laughter. "Trust me, lad! This is nothing yet!" he patted the other's shoulder while fighting for breath.

Shannai and Legolas were looking at them, interest in their bright eyes. "Are you quite alright, Master Gimli?" Shannai asked with amused concern.

Gimli merely shook his head and stumped on, muttering to himself.

Fundal reached the Elves who had halted to wait for them, giving Shannai a careful look. Cautious curiosity sparkled in his deep eyes, yet he was afraid to approach this rather strange Elf. He knew Legolas well, and came along with him, but Shannai was nothing he had encountered before. _And there I thought I had already faced all the eccentrics of the Elves_, the youth thought. As Legolas eyed him carefully, he blushed and looked away.

Shannai giggled softly, briefly touching Fundal's shoulder as they continued to walk. "Gimli's moods shift at times, but worry not: he is quite safe to be with. As am I," he grinned, seeing the Dwarf's startled look. "Oh, I know you have been eyeing me up!" Now he gave the Dwarf a curious look in turn. "Yet there is no loathing or mistrust in your gaze. That is interesting."

"Why should there be?" Fundal asked, feeling a bit more at ease with this bronze-haired Firstborn.

Shannai shrugged, smirking. "Even my own people tend to look at me strangely. The Dwarves… well, let us say they do not like Elves that much, and find me threatening, I think."

"Truly?"

"Aye. I think it is because I do not fit the category they have built for Elves," Shannai pondered.

Fundal laughed, nodding. "I have known you just a brief while, and yet I can say that myself. But I do not know if that is a bad thing, after all." He gave the other Elves a quick glance in the case he had made an insult.

Legolas smirked, elbowing Shannai. "He is different. And that makes him special." With that, the Prince moved aside, joining Rafél on the far side of the group.

"He is special, too…" Shannai whispered, eyes following Legolas. "He has been hurt so much lately. I can see it…"

Fundal looked up in surprise, the depth of emotion in the Elf's voice almost startling. He also sought Legolas, shaking the evil memories from his head. "A lot has happened since the attack to Woodland Realm, I think," he said cautiously. "I do not know everything, but I can tell you what I know, if you like…" He bit his lip, meeting Shannai's eyes warily.

Shannai was first very still, then a fond smile appeared to his face. "I would like that," he stated, his hand again dropping on Fundal's shoulder. "Friends?" he offered.

Fundal opened his mouth, but was interrupted as Adír called for him. Nodding to the Elf, he sprang back to the elder Dwarf, knowing there would be a long lecture before of him. Adír perhaps was friendly towards Elves, and liked Legolas, but it did not mean he wanted to befriend them without prudence. With one last look at Shannai, Fundal settled at his guardian's side, pondering all he had learned of the Elves – and how wrong he had been, at some places.

First image of Elves was easily far from the truth: cold, haughty, uncaring creatures of perfection. Prideful and arrogant they might seem – and some surely were so – but when you learned to _know_ an Elf, you also started to fathom the complex life of the Firstborns. They were caring and loving folk, who worshipped all life. They believed in good, fighting all forms of evil with their powers given. They might live forever, but died of heartache – something Fundal himself found difficult to believe. Earning an Elven trust was a puzzling thing, as he did not know how exactly one did so. Yet the Elves seemed to see right into people's hearts, and then decided if the other was worth trusting or not. And when one earned an Elven friendship, it was only a beginning. Immortal as they were, Elves fought for their friends beyond the bounds of mortality. They maybe did not understand death, but knew it was something they had to defend their mortal friends from.

_Of course there is the matter of pride, as well_, Fundal thought. _But which are worse, the Dwarves, or the Elves?_ He had witnessed such discussions during their journey, and had shared Aragorn's opinion shortly after witnessing the banter between Legolas and Gimli: there was nothing worse than Elven pride colliding with the one of a Dwarf. _Maybe they keep their thoughts to themselves, but then again, they think differently. They shall live forever, so that must cause some differences to our thinking…_ Frowning, Fundal walked on, lost in thought. Even Adír was silent, noticing there was no point to lecture the boy now. It would go all for nothing.

* * *

Hours later, when nightfall began to creep over the world, the company halted to eat and make their plans.

"They did not enter Dol Guldur," Thalión mumbled, nipping a small piece of _lembas_.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Shannai offered.

"Who knows," Dínnor snorted, "they can still attack Rohan."

Shannai nodded, munching a piece of an apple thoughtfully. "They are still heading south, then?"

Before none could answer, Thalión shook his head. The motion was not as confident as usual, but a clear signal anyway. "They have turned slightly east, following the edge of the forest. They still remain close to the river."

"Are you sure?" Thrénandu asked, leaving his food for a moment.

Thalión nodded, eyes distant. "That is what I know, for now." His eyes briefly glanced at Legolas. "The trees are silent here," he mumbled, getting up and walking to the edge of the forest.

"He will return with news," Dínnor said casually, knowing that the Dwarves might not understand his cousin's actions. "He needs a moment with the _olvar_. He knows a lot more when he gets all the information solved."

Everyone nodded, even if some knew nothing of what the Elf was talking about. It took a long while before Thalión returned, his face troubled and pale. Yet his eyes were far more serene now, knowledge shining in them. When he reached out to for his bow to shoulder it again, Dínnor caught his hand, holding for a moment. It was shaking. "It took a lot of effort from me to draw out the information I wanted," the Sinda snatched his hand back, fastening the belts of his quiver.

The others took in the example, gathering their own belongings. "So, what did you find out?" Thrénandu questioned.

Thalión was silent for a moment, his eyes turning south. "They have turned strongly east, abandoning Anduin. I do not think they would take such direction if they were heading at Rohan. Or Gondor," he added, glancing at Legolas. Something shifted in his eyes, making Legolas take a step forward in alarm. Thalión shook his head, his lips a thin line, his eyes leaving Legolas only to cast a quick look at Rafél. "The forest is filled with shadows," he finally whispered with a dreadful voice. "Dol Guldur is swarming with venom, and the trees are not easy to approach." He took a deep breath. "Let us go on."

"We should return home," Thrénandu objected. "Send a word to your friends, and head back to Woodland Realm." He gave the Dwarves a look, then turned to his Prince. "I am sure that the _Naugrim_ would also desire to join their people."

Gimli shifted, his shoulder brushing against Legolas' side. It was all the signal the Elf needed to understand his friend's mind. "I wish to go a bit further," Legolas said, his eyes passing Thalión's fleetingly. The Cousin nodded.

Thrénandu saw the wordless debate, trying to keep himself from groaning aloud. "There is no reason to go on –"

"Do you not heed your Prince's wish?" Dínnor asked with a lifted eyebrow, inspecting the hilt of his sword with a bowed head.

Thrénandu cringed back, shaking head. "Of course not, but it is my _duty_ to worry of his health!"

"I do not wish to go much further," Thalión interrupted. "I just have to find a good place."

"A good place for what?" Shannai requested, baffled.

"To send a messenger," Thalión answered with a shadow of a smile. "The evil lingering in the wake of the army does not do any good, to any of us – nor the creatures living here."

As he seemingly had no other choice, Thrénandu gave in and muttered an order to move out. No actual order was needed, naturally, but it gave him something to do. The group moved on, still on foot, as the horses were somewhere further away. Shadows drew longer with every passing minute, clouded sky making the evening darker than usual.

"Should we camp for the night?" Fundal asked, nearly running into a tree while speaking to the Elves behind him. They were entering a small wood beside the river, leaving Mirkwood further on their left.

"We can rest when we reach home," Gimli muttered, brushing a branch from his way. "Yet I must ask why we did not stay on the open land? Wandering in a foreign forest in the middle of a night cannot be overly wise."

"We just have to find a suitable place," Thalión murmured, walking few steps aside from the others, eyes scanning the green layer above them.

"Evil lingers long after the Dark Army has passed," Thrénandu said darkly, gazing at the forest. "Even here, you can feel it like a foul stench, stuck into your very being as you pass through it..."

Rafél gave the Captain a pat on the shoulder, passing him in silence. Wind started to blow, from southeast, gathering loose leaves on the ground to a fair play of dance. Branches above shook, filling the early night with whispery sounds. Anduin's voice drowned into it, closing the company into a world of darkness and secret voices.

Rafél cocked his head, eyes narrowing. "Thalión," he called, making the other Elf approach him swiftly, "didn't you say the army turned east?" he asked. The other nodded. "They have just separated."

All stood in silence, the breeze still blowing on its own accord. Thalión turned his head in alarm, listening to the wind. "Yes…" he said haltingly. "But…" he glanced at Rafél, "why to set out a small force like that? It cannot be more than a thousand."

"Seemingly they have a plan, as we do not," Thrénandu snorted, leaning at his bow. "They are too far away from us to be reached." He did not add that without Dwarves, they might have done it, even on foot. After all, he had acknowledged by now that leaving the _Naugrim_ was not an option.

Legolas went to stand beside his guardian, breathing deeply as he closed his eyes. "They are far, indeed…" he said distantly. Frown appeared on his face as he tried to focus on the wind and the message it carried. "Why do you think they have turned?" he asked, eyes still closed.

Rafél thought for a moment, eyes staring at the darkness ahead. "Their current path, straight south, would take them to Rohan. If they take a route through the Field of Celebrant and Wold, they will make it straight to the land of the Horselords."

"It would still leave them to cross two rivers," Thalión shook his head. "What is going on?" he whispered, trying to catch something new in the breeze.

Legolas shifted, lost in his own world. The army still lingered within the shadow of Dol Guldur, which made it hard to catch any concrete picture of their movements. Swallowing with difficulty, Legolas re-ordered his thoughts, again, trying to pry himself past the evil. It did not work, his Elven senses cast aside like a ragged doll.

"It does not work, Las," Rafél said quietly. "I have tried. We cannot get any clearer message, I am afraid."

"Yet we know they have separated," Shannai said brightly. "Now we have actual news to give to Aragorn! To warn him!"

"They can still easily head at Emyn Muil," Thrénandu warned. "The way is long, and they might change their course again." He also gazed at the direction of the wind, feeling the menace easily enough.

Legolas breathed deeply, knowing they needed more information. He had no desire to warn his friends for nothing, as they surely had their own problems to face. _World isn't kind enough to us to let anything happen smoothly_, he decided, then concentrated. He could actually fathom the long shadows spreading from Dol Guldur, feel the agony of the infested forest around they ruined citadel. He passed this, trying to find the two pieces of the Dark Army with his mind's eyes. The darkness blocked his way again, like a barrier, a soggy swamp he could not cross.

Rafél shifted beside him, sensing he was up to something. Legolas closed his eyes, trying to sharpen his focus. He had only one strike, and it might be his destruction if he failed. He heard the distant call of his guardian, and without another thought, curled his fingers around the Elf's beside him. A surge of strength seemed to pour through him, Rafél's _fëa_ so close it seemed to burn his skin. He actually smiled, then returned to his earlier task. Countering the darkness on his way once more, he made sure Rafél – mentally – was behind him, as if covering his back in a battle. He could feel the other's confusion, but gave it no time to hinder him: when the dark walls again rose to block his vision, he changed tactics.

The evil of Dol Guldur shifted, stirring. The wall set as a barrier seemed to shiver, like waves travelling the surface of the water. Doing something an Elf would never even consider with a healthy mind, Legolas summoned the evil. He entered it, allowing its brief embrace, then cast it aside. Like a curtain of spider webs, the darkness fell aside. For a moment, the army was revealed. The other, smaller half, was taking a route slightly to southwest. He could hear voices, whispers.

The image was full and clear, so much more perfect than the visions the trees and the wind gave to the Elves. Watching another moment, Legolas took in every detail, knowing he would not have another chance. Then suddenly, something else stirred. Turning his attention away in alarm, Legolas made a short notice of something approaching before he was forcefully pulled back.

**

* * *

**

Rafél had been puzzled at first, his fingers tightly grasping Legolas', his _fëa_ beside the other's. Then, as Legolas had reached out, it was quite clear the younger Elf was trying to combine their powers to find out the enemy's movements. This illusion was horribly broken when Legolas pushed him back, holding him as a shield, an anchor. Too late Rafél realised what the other was up to.

He felt the evil as soon as Legolas reached towards it. He could actually taste it in his mouth, feel it crawl against his skin. In despair, he tried to call Legolas back, yet halted when he noticed the dark wall was fading. He saw but a glimpse of what Legolas did, his _fëa_ unwilling to enter the darkness fully. The Prince's, however, seemed to have no qualms to linger in the eye of evil.

When something shifted in the dark world, making Legolas turn his attention in alarm, Rafél used the gap given and snatched the other out of the dark reverie. He did not desire to know what _else_ the darkness had to offer, and he knew Legolas had seen enough to provide them information worth sending a word to the Men and their companions.

Legolas' weight sagged against Rafél, his form held firmly in a strong embrace as both Elves fought to breathe evenly. The others stared at them in wonder, suspicion on the Elven faces.

"What did you just do?" Thalión asked carefully, not daring to approach the two just yet.

Legolas shook his head, opening the now dark blue eyes. Looking up, he met the dark gaze of his guardian, every emotion visible there. Directing his stare swiftly elsewhere, the Prince got up to his own feet, brushing his cloths as if there was dirt on them. "I… We…" he stammered, throwing a glance at Rafél again. The other's face was pure of emotions, dangerous hint of fury set in the depths of his eyes.

Rafél gave a deep sigh, reaching out to touch Legolas' shoulder, trying to assure the other he was not about to release his anger – just yet. _He must know that what he just did was both foolish and extremely dangerous! But this time he "took" me with him. I think he is beginning to learn…_ He still did not like this at all. Legolas flinched under his touch, but soon relaxed, willingly leaning against him. "Legolas saw the enemies. It was as we thought: they have separated." As the others gave him a sceptic look, he added, "I did not see it too clearly, but as soon as Legolas has… recovered," he said carefully, "we will have more answers."

Gimli had a deep worried frown on his face, and he made his way to his friend's side. The moment Legolas had started – whatever he _had_ done – Gimli had felt it like a stab in his chest. Cold feeling had seemed to spread all around him, centring the necklace beneath his tunic. He laid a careful hand on the Elf's arm, looking up at the distressed eyes. "Are you well?" he asked. A stupid question, perhaps, but he needed to hear the Elf's voice to calm himself.

Legolas nodded absently, lifting his free hand to his neck. A brief smile appeared to his face as he encountered the jewel, and he finally looked down at the Dwarf. "I am fine, _Elvellon_. Just a bit… shaken," he shrugged, only then seeming to realise he was still resting in Rafél's loose embrace. One cast to his companions told him they were receiving more than a few pairs of curious eyes.

Dínnor cocked his head to a side, watching the Prince and his Guardian closely. Asthaldo had his eyebrow lifted at Thalión who seemed not to notice anything unusual. Shannai's smile was almost fond, as if he had just uncovered a wonderful secret.

Thrénandu broke the silence with a loud cough, shaking his head. "'Let Guardians do their task the way they see best', I have been told. So stop gaping, and give Prince Legolas his time to recover. In the meanwhile, Thalión could send the message so we can head back home."

"And what task of a guardian _this_ might be?" Asthaldo giggled softly, then yelped when Thalión elbowed him sharply. "Don't bother. You can keep your secrets, cousin! I can use my own eyes, thank you very much!" he said roughly, rubbing his side. The fallow eyes were back on Legolas and Rafél quicker than his side stopped throbbing. Legolas was now standing a foot away from Rafél, looking slightly embarrassed. Rafél, on his side, eyed the younger Elf steadily, and it was clear they had a silent debate going on. "What are they doing?" he asked from his eldest cousin, knowing that Dínnor as well was watching the couple.

"Thalión?" Legolas called out suddenly. "Could I come to send the message with you –" he fell silent in mid-sentence, staring wide-eyed at the direction of Anduin. They could see naught but trees, and in the darkness of the late evening, the further trees faded to black. Blinking several times, Legolas shook his head, as if trying to get rid of some feeling.

"Do you feel it too?" Shannai asked his friend, stepping closer to the Prince and his guardian with a shudder. "I know that as the army is passing, the feel in its wake should be vanishing. But it seems to me that it is… increasing?" he almost squeaked, trying to suppress another shudder.

Rafél frowned, meeting Thrénandu's eyes in the darkness. The only thing visible in the darkness was the halo around the Elves, and so they saw each other easily. The sky, heavy with clouds, hid the stars away from sight. _For once I am glad we are travelling with Dwarves_, the guardian decided. _We do not have to be constantly afraid that they would lose us, even in darkness. They see here almost as well as we do._ Better, Dwarves would have said, but it was no concern of his who saw the best in the darkness. As long as they would all stay together, no greater harm would fall upon them.

"I think I feel it also…" one of the Woodland warriors said with a fearful voice. "Is it the Shadow from the Valley?" his companions hushed him quickly, not wishing to hear such things.

Thalión shook his head. "It comes from the river."

"And it is increasing. Should we move away?" Shannai stuttered, looking this way and that.

"Away where?" Gimli asked friendlily, knowing that if Shannai panicked – which did not happen often – they were in a trouble. A panicked Elf of any sort was a difficult thing to deal with.

"I do not care where!" Shannai said heatedly, fear of the unknown threat forgotten for a moment. "Just away from –"

"Hush!" Dínnor hissed, lifting a hand as a sign of silence. Everyone listened. The woods were no longer quiet. With a colourful curse, Dínnor turned around, his hand releasing his sword in a one graceful movement. Asthaldo unsheathed his two shorter blades, just as Thalión's bow sang. A harsh cry of pain and a thud of something heavy falling to the forest floor was the only evidence of something being hit.

Silence followed. None dared to breathe, all senses focused on the dark forest ahead.

With a small movement, Rafél pushed Legolas back, shielding the younger Elf effectively. The Prince almost retorted vocally, but settled with glaring at his guardian while preparing his bow, notching one arrow to the string. He still had a fine line beside the other's shoulder.

As swiftly as the silence had landed, it was broken. Dozen of Orcs came shouting and running from the shelter of the trees, immediately countered by Elven arrows, Dwarven axes and blades of those Firstborns who chose to fight hand to hand. It took a few minutes before the entire skirmish was over. The Orcs lay on the moss, silent as the night.

"Well, that was refreshing," Asthaldo grinned, wiping black blood from his cheek. "What next?" He regretted that question for the rest of his life.

The darkness was filled with more rough shouts, metal clinging against metal. For all the warriors listening, it was immediately sure they were not facing another group of one dozen – or two. When the first dark shapes came to the Elves' line of vision, they made the only reasonable conclusion.

"Run!" Dínnor shouted, leaving no place for questions – or objections. The sound of the feet behind them told that the number of the enemy was too great to be dealt with. "Get back to the horses!" the Sinda gave his final command, though it was not entirely needed.

"How do we find the horses in the first place?" Gimli demanded, his words uneven and breathy as he tried to keep up with the others. "We haven't seen them all day!"

"I am working on it," Thalión hissed, turning for a moment to shoot an Orc. After he had got two more, he turned again to catch up the others.

As first arrows began to rain after them, a chaos ensued. Orcs naturally saw well in darkness, living in it all their lives. They also had the advantage of the pursuers. The Elves and the Dwarves soon found themselves in a serious trouble; dodging arrows, roots, and branches.

"Just let us stop and fight them!" Adír growled after almost toppling over on a root.

"They are too many!" Shannai answered, daring a look back.

"And they must be the swiftest Orcs on Arda," Gimli cursed, feeling Legolas' hand on his shoulder as he almost collided with a tree stump. Blood rushed in his ears, his already weary legs demanding for rest.

Another rain of arrows swarmed through the darkness, and with a piercing cry, one of the Elves fell to the ground. Dínnor and one of the other warriors halted, but then continued to run, leaving the fallen behind. Cold fury swept through the Elves: they had their first dead, and it did not suite their natures to run away from the enemy after such a loss. But if they wanted no more casualties, they had to escape the villains.

More arrows were launched after them, hitting nothing but trees and bushes this time. The Orcs kept screaming, uncaring if their opponents were still ahead of them: they were certain they could catch them in time.

")Take to the trees!(" Thrénandu commanded suddenly, knowing that was the only way for them to survive. Hidden by the branches, they could launch their own attack, and make their way to safety.

")Nay, stay on the ground!(" Legolas shouted back, his voice frantic. ")The _Naugrim_ will not survive on their own.("

The Elves ran in indecision, knowing they should take refuge in the canopy, yet understanding the Dwarves would then stand alone. Yet when Thrénandu did not repeat his order, they remained where they were, once in a while turning to shoot the enemies in the darkness. Greater number of arrows always answered, and the fleeing group knew they were going to lose this battle eventually.

Snapping of wood and increasing harsh cries alarmed the Elves before a thicker rain of arrows began. "Their force is growing!" Asthaldo shouted as he threw himself behind a large trunk of a tree, avoiding three dark shafts aimed at his direction.

"Are they growing from the ground itself?" Thrénandu muttered, swiftly counting his warriors as everyone sought shelter among the trees.

"The must have crossed the river," Thalión guessed, daring as quick look at the approaching enemy. "We cannot stay here. It may be that this is only a foretaste of their true number."

Everyone nodded, trying not to put too much thought on the idea.

"Is it still a long way?" Fundal panted, trying to catch his breath. His entire form was shaking with effort, the axe shaking in hands that gripped it in tight hold. Shannai, who stood next to him, shifted carefully to look at the darkness before them.

"It must be a mile yet," one of the other Elven warriors counted, hidden near the young Dwarf.

"A _mile_? When did we come this deep in to this accursed forest?" Gimli barked out, shaking his head. "The trees must be moving… Moving trees… They never deem anything good…" he muttered, trying to forget the pain of his sore muscles. He did not know how he was going to run another mile in a pitch-black forest, Orcs on his heels.

Legolas lowered a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to give him strength. They had chosen a wrong direction to exit the forest, he knew that. But in their haste they had not had the time to take notice of their route. _The forest bends here, leaving us a longer way to go than what we came. Yet it cannot be helped now! The only thing we can do it so see us all safely back to the horses._ The temptation to summon the animals to them was great; but in saving their own trouble and efforts, they would endanger the animals – and therefore themselves again. A forest this thick was hard enough to travel at day, not to speak of racing in at night!

Changing swift looks, the Elves nodded, and then moved forth again. Legolas and Shannai took their places with the Dwarves, trying to guide them as well as possible. The other Elves took their places to protect the other five, trying to buy them time to escape. More arrows shot through the night, Orcs swarming through the shadows.

When Rafél turned to look at the enemies behind them, it was as if the darkness itself was shifting, dozens of black forms pressed together and dashing after the Elves in a heated pursuit. An arrow shot beside his head made the air stir, driving the guardian back to reality. He dodged the next arrow, shooting one in return, and made his way along the path Legolas had taken. Knowing that the Prince was out of the immediate danger gave Rafél more freedom to see for himself and his other companions. He was fairly certain that Thalión had taken to the trees, trying to take down as many Orcs as possible. The rest of them were still on the ground, making their way forward with slow process.

Arrows rained on them continuously now, no true aim in them. It seemed that the Orcs were satisfied enough by shooting in their general direction, waiting some of the arrows to strike their target. This plan of action was far from practical – but at times, it worked.

And at times, fate was not kind to all.

Rafél had kept a careful eye on Legolas, making sure the younger Elf stayed outside the range of arrows. The Prince's attention on the Dwarves and their safety, Rafél was able to trust the other on his own for a moment. After all, Gimli would make sure that his Elf was as safe as he could be, considering the situation they were in. With a grim smile on his face, Rafél shot one more arrow to the forest behind them, eliciting a gruff shout in return. _One more down – hundreds to go._ It was not an entirely cheerful thought, but he did not let it bother his mind. He had seen worse, smelled too many pyres that took his fallen cousins to the world of invisible…

A pain tore through his leg, making him stumble a few steps before he was able to halt his speed completely. Gritting his jaws together, Rafél glanced down, swearing in his mind instantly. A dark shaft of an arrow was hardly visible in the dimness. His questioning fingers confirmed what his eyes could not: the shaft was buried into his flesh from behind, sunk deep. The tip came out on the front. His fingers were soon covered with thick warm liquid, the smell of blood reaching his nostrils. Forcing himself still, he tried not to flinch as he bowed down and took hold of the shaft with both hands.

The noises of the Orcs came closer. His heart thrummed in his chest, breath ragged and shallow. The snap of the arrow was loud in his ears as he broke it in two, letting the feathered head fall to the ground. He was shivering now. Folding his fingers around the sharp tip, he tugged it once. It moved barely an inch, but the pain was overwhelming. Closing his eyes against the darkness that washed over his mind, Rafél refocused his thoughts, pushing the pain aside. When he opened his eyes again, his heart had stilled, pain controlled. The enemies were closer. Few more minutes and they would overcome him. _Focus!_ he snapped in his mind, repositioning his fingers around the remaining piece of the arrow. He knew the weapon had not broken the bone – thought maybe grazed it a little. The arrow would come free easily enough… He drew his lungs full, then yanked. He needed a second pull to rid himself of the shaft, and finally allowed the slick object fall from his shaking fingers.

Leaning against a tree he had used as a momentary shelter, Rafél tried in vain to get his body under control again. Violent shivers wracked his form sporadically, pain washing over him in torrents. For a moment, it all seemed to be too much for his mind to comprehend, and he drew inwards, once more making sure he made no outer signal of his situation: he wanted Legolas to stay where he was – safe. Had Legolas known Rafél was hurt, the Prince would have run right back to him – and to his death.

After a few more seconds that felt like ages, Rafél pushed away from the tree and made his way towards the others. Once enclosed by thicker wood, Orcs had to slow down. Elves, on the other hand, could only quicken their pace. Ignoring the stabbing pain that would have brought a grown Man to his knees, the guardian continued resolutely. He only needed his mind, body, and _fëa_ to work in harmony, and he could let any physical discomfort pull back to ignorance, until taken notice again.

To his eternal irritation, he had to halt again. _Too soon_, he cursed in his mind, leaning against rough bark of an old tree. The surface under his cheek scraped the skin, but he welcomed the small sting. Seconds passed, drowned in feverish determination to win the weakness spreading within. _Just focus. You have done this before! Pain is mere hindrance. It can be dealt with, later. Breathe. Control. Breathe…_

"Rafél?" an alarmed question sounded loud in the guardian's ears, even if it was hushed in the silence. "Are you well?"

Slowly, Rafél opened his eyes, grasping Dínnor's shoulder as soon as the other Elf was on his reach. "Just catching… my breathe," he answered tonelessly. The throbbing increased, spreading thorough his body. "Do me a favour," he spoke up before the other was able to say another words, "take Legolas to safety. I do not care what you have to do – no harm may come to him."

Dínnor's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He sniffed, smelling blood. "Rafél…"

"Do _not_ question my command!" Rafél hissed, his grip painful on the other's shoulder. "Now be on your way, and make sure you deliver the order given to you! Or I will bloody promise to rip off those ignorant ears of yours!"

"You are not well," the Cousin muttered, bringing his own hand to Rafél's shoulder. The hand was slapped away with force that surprised him, the fingers on his shoulder moving to the back of his neck, drawing him a bit closer. Dark eyes bore into his, leaving him no space to go.

")Go.(" Rafél left no room for arguments, pushing the younger Elf away. Dínnor stumbled back, standing in indecision. "Legolas," the Guardian reminded, his eyes resolute.

In the darkness, Dínnor was not sure where exactly Rafél was hurt. The smell of blood was distinctive. He battled with himself, knowing that leaving Rafél would be a mistake. Yet carrying out the other's order was nothing he desired to do more.

Branches rustled. Sound of feet thrumming the earth drew nearer. Shouts and screams, banging of metal against metal. The Orcs were dangerously near now.

"I will accompany you back to the others," Dínnor offered, reaching out with his hand.

Rafél shook his head, yet stepped away from the tree. "I can manage it on my own. Just go ahead and see to our Prince." His eyes strayed in the darkness, and a moment later, three Elves appeared. He recognised Thrénandu's warriors immediately. "Go," he said again, nodding at Dínnor. "I will be right behind you."

With a reluctant nod on his own, Dínnor took a step back. Then he turned around and sprinted to the darkness, silently as a wind.

Rafél looked after him, making sure the other Sinda did as he was told. Then he moved forth himself, sensing the other three hovering near. He did not know if they had come to hold back the enemies, or to see for their missing companions. _I would assume the first, knowing Thrénandu. If we do not meet the horses immediately outside the forest, we are forced to meet the Orcs in a battle._ And the outcome of such a clash was all too certain. They could not win.

")The others go nearer to the enemy lines(," one of the Elves spoke up, falling into hurried step beside Rafél. ")I shall remain beside you.(" It was an offer the guardian was only too glad to take.

")You understand that two archers do not stand against such a force as we have behind us?(" Rafél asked quietly.

The other Elf nodded. ")They will merely slow them down. In the trees, they should be quite safe…(" A sudden, high-pitched cry of pain, somewhere behind them, and the following howls of Orcs, spoke volumes. The Elf swallowed, refusing to look back.

Rafél, on his side, looked behind them. He needed to evaluate the distance to the enemies. He had seen enough of his companions fall so not to be shaken by death – even if it never stopped to hurt to see an immortal life, gone and wasted. He did not know if they could make it. The forest's edge stood before them, but the Orcs were not slowing down as he was. "Aronnen," he spoke to the other, using the Elf's name to wake him from a terrified silence. ")Just go ahead. I can –("

"Nay, Lord," Aronnen answered, switching into Westron haltingly. His eyes gleamed in the darkness as he met Rafél's gaze. "I shall not leave. You are wounded, and above all, you were one of the warriors who taught me to never let a kinsman alone."

Rafél couldn't help but smile. True – he had spent his time with novices, Aronnen among them. "Very well," he whispered, trying to speed up into a slow trot. The pain refused to leave his mind, but he was still able to push it aside some. _Let it hover and wait. Soon, it won't matter anymore…_ He saw the edge of the forest. The trees grew more sparsely now, leaving them free room to move.

Harsh, guttural cry pierced the air. An arrow embedded itself to a tree between the now running Elves. They maybe caught a glimpse of the open land beyond the trees – but the Orcs also saw them.

**

* * *

**

Shannai actually let out a cry of joy when he stumbled into the open. The Dwarves halted, fighting for breathe, leaning on each other to avoid collapsing into a heap of metal, axes, and leather. Legolas came out last, halting to take a look around swiftly. The horses were nowhere to be seen. It probably meant nothing – yet.

"What now?" Gimli asked, his words followed by deep gasps for air.

"We wait," Legolas answered. All four heads turned to him.

"Wait?" Shannai almost shrieked. "But… The Orcs…"

"Thalión has summoned the horses," Legolas said quietly, looking back at the forest over his shoulder. "We will not make it far without our mounts." He was not glad about this, either, but he knew their options were limited. It was highly unlikely that they could outrun the Orcs, in the case the horses would not appear.

"How soon –" Fundal was about to ask when Thalión barged into the open, Asthaldo close behind.

"Soon," the silver-haired Elf answered, checking his companions for any grave injuries. "The horses are coming."

Gimli muttered something of useless, weed-stuffing animals, but his words were lined with relief. Soon, they would be on their way away from here, far from Orcs and their arrows.

Thrénandu was next to appear, his pace slower than the others'. His eyes kept darting to the forest and back at his companions, calculating. "Where is –"

"Here," Dínnor called out, appearing from the woods. He stood for a moment, stilling his breathing back to normal. His eyes sought Legolas as soon as he was calm again. "Where are the horses?" he finally asked, directing a quick glance at his Cousin.

"Coming," Thalión answered rather distantly, a small smile appearing to his face. "There," he lifted his hand to point across the open field: a group of animals raced towards them, halting some yards away with greeting snorts.

"Let us go and mount while we still have time," Dínnor said quickly, starting towards the horses. When he realised not everyone was following, he turned back. There was no surprise on his face as he found Legolas standing on his place, staring at the forest with a worried frown. "Legolas, come. They will make it in time. There is no point in waiting, while we can prepare to leave."

"I will wait for Rafél," the Prince said absently, the frown increasing. "Something is amiss…" he said then, more to himself than to his companions.

Dínnor tried not to grimace as he strode to the smaller Elf and gripped his arm. "Come." It was no longer a kind request, which the others noticed immediately. Thalión looked alarmed when Dínnor bodily dragged Legolas to the horses. "What is going on?" the silver-haired Elf demanded, but the elder cousin shot him a glare that would have silenced a flock of birds on a spring-morning. Stunned and even more worried, Thalión went to his own mount.

They guided the animals further away from the forest, eyes lingering in the shadows. Legolas was anxious to return to the edge of the trees, but Dínnor refused to allow any of them back to the danger. So they waited, moments sliding by with awful slowness. Dínnor kept both swearing and praying in his mind that their missing companions would join them soon.

The first thing they heard was the noise the Orcs created in their wake. Soon after, two Elves stumbled into the open, the shadows moving behind them like violent waves. The enemies were not far behind.

"Rafél," Legolas whispered, realising something was out of place. The way the guardian kept leaning on the other Elf was alarming enough. But what scared him more was the swift glimpse to the other's _fëa_. It was rather visible that Rafél tried to hide his discomfort, but Legolas was able to catch a hint before he was shut out again. Without another thought, Legolas dismounted from his place on Morchaint's back and started to make his way towards the two Elves.

Before two steps, Dínnor caught up with the Prince, blocking his path. Angry glance was given to his direction, but it soon melted into one of terror. It took a fraction of a moment from the Cousin to understand the fearful eyes were directed at the scene behind him. He barely had the wits to catch Legolas as the Elf sprang forward with a cry of alarm. It was enough work to hold the strong warrior in his arms, but he was able to catch a glimpse at the forest's edge. And his blood froze.

**

* * *

**

Some time before he and Aronnen reached the open ground, Rafél knew his fears were true. He had not put thought on that possible misfortune, but it began to be too obvious to be just simply ignored. There was poison in his system. The arrow was completing the mission appointed to it.

When he stumbled, Aronnen caught him readily. Giving the other a brief, grateful look, Rafél forced his body to cooperate. _We are so near. Fight it just another moment, and then you can rest_, he urged himself on. But his body refused to obey: it was too far gone, venom in the blood working its way all over his form. He was going down at any given moment.

Plunging through the final layer of branches was like a dream. Rafél's eyes were losing their focus, his body fighting between painful cramps and icy-cold shivers. He had been shot by Orcs before – more times he could count – but always he had tended the poisoned wound immediately after. Today, there had been no such chance. Today, he might suffer of it with his life.

")Just a little longer,(" Aronnen encouraged, throwing a fearful look behind them. The Orcs were too near. He could already smell them, and one glance told him what his senses warned him of: they would be caught. The others were too far. And had they been closer, they would have still been outdone in moments. "Rafél –" The silent words ended in a gasp as something jolted at his back. The pain was brief, and the overcoming oblivion too demanding to be fought.

Rafél stumbled when Aronnen's body jerked suddenly. When the other Elf collapsed to the ground, he had no choice but to follow. His every nerve burned in a desperate fight against the poison and weariness. His mind could barely make out the fact that the other was dead, that there was an arrow buried to the unmoving back. He blinked, unmoving. He knew he had to move, to fight, to survive. But he was simply too tired… He needed more time to adjust his body.

Legolas' frantic call, both inside and out, was what drew Rafél's attention from haziness. He lifted his head, finding the Prince easily enough. Legolas called out his name again, struggling in vain against Dínnor's firm hold. The others stood in indecision, prepared to attack.

One look back told Rafél why exactly they hesitated. A second later, the first Orc approached him, receiving Thalión's arrow as it reached down to attack the wounded Elf. Hundreds of feet trampled the ground, the full force of the Orcs appearing from the darkness of the forest.

With renewed will to defend himself, Rafél drew his knife, plunging it into the next foul creature that dared to approach him. When he had the next moment free of struggle, he turned at Dínnor. "Take him away, Dín!" he knew his voice was broken, harsh. Yet all he cared was that his companions would take their leave. They stood no chance here.

"No! Rafél!" Legolas screamed, and for a moment, Dínnor was rewarded with a fight worthy of all his skills.

"Take him!" Rafél repeated, just a moment before the Orcs finally got an upper hand, forcing him to the ground. His battle was lost. _For Valar's sake, Dínnor, don't you dare to go against me now! For Legolas' sake…_ But he knew that the Cousin loved his Prince like a brother, and would see no harm come to him.

Indeed, Dínnor had no intentions of letting Legolas go. His heart yearned to go and do _something_ to aid his long-time companion, but the rational side held him in place. The Orcs were too many. They had already brought Rafél down, swarming around him, towards them. If they would not leave now, none of them would walk away from this place. "Legolas, please!" he cried out, trying to yank Legolas back towards the horses.

"No! Let me go! You cannot leave him! I cannot –" Legolas screamed, his struggles frantic. He would have drawn his knife and used it, but Dínnor's hold secured him too tightly to do that. His _fëa_ was a myriad of confusion, held back from Rafél by the other Elf. _Nay, please, Rafél! Do not block me out now! Not at this moment…_ His fight was powered by endless, dark void of his despair; fear of losing Rafél overwhelming him with its intensity.

Dínnor cursed, for a moment wondering if he should just let Legolas go and follow him to the battle. He and his cousins had made impossible to a reality before – it would be his honour to do so again. _But not when Legolas' life is depending on me. Rafél's last wish – his command – was to get Legolas out of danger. Gifting us all a painful, worthless death would be nothing but mockery towards him._ With a swift, sure movement, he freed his right hand and brought it down on the back of Legolas' neck, hard. The Prince sagged against him with a gasp of surprise, eyes closing in unconsciousness.

After the Prince was secured, the eldest Cousin wasted no more time. Picking Legolas to his arms, he made his way to his horse, mounting it swiftly. "Let's go!" he commanded, bringing his shaken companions back to reality. Uncertain eyes looked at his direction, but he merely held Legolas tight against him, encouraging his mount forward.

The horses were only too happy to leave, the presence of the Orcs making them nervous. The others followed Dínnor in silence, knowing nothing more could be done. Still it did not mean they did not regret of not doing things differently. Losing so many of their own was a painful reality to bear, and they tried not to dwell in it.

The coming morning, however, would be a dark one.

**

* * *

**

"Noise" was not enough of a word to describe the sound that a few hundred Orcs could create, a Man decided as he reached the open land where the dark creatures had gathered. After crossing the river, the foul creatures had spotted something. Elves, he knew now. He had already seen three corpses on their way here.

His two companions, both on horses like himself, threw disgusted looks at one more dead Firstborn that lay near the edge of the forest. The body was mutilated, a token of the hate the Orcs held against the eternal creatures. _Or anything living_, the man smiled to himself. "What happened there?" he demanded to know, halting his horse beside an Uruk that was in command at the moment. Like a dog, aiding a shepherd, he thought. But as long as the Uruks remained under _his_ control, he was happy enough.

A large group of Orcs was gathered together, observed by the others. It did not require much logic to know something was drawing their attention. "A living prisoner," the Uruk-hai retorted harshly. Not that he was disrespectful – his voice, like those of his kin, sounded naturally like that.

"Truly?" the Man asked, surprised. "How might that be? Is it not an Elf?"

"It is a tree-rat alright," spat one of the Orcs hovering near to them, disliking the entire idea of a living Elf. "Those commanded us to leave it alive," the creature pointed at the Uruks.

"Do we have a need for a prisoner? We are already late as we are," one of the other Men spoke. He was far more solidly built than the first, a big man with rough features and scars running across his tanned skin. The third, silent companion beside him was much alike the second: great in size and not too pleasant to look at. Their purpose, however, was not in beauty, but in strength.

"It won't hurt to look," the first Man said, dismounting. He was, after all, the mind of this group. His two kinsmen were merely protecting him, and keeping order – if needed. Though he did not doubt for a moment that _if_ the Orcs desired to slay them and cook them over a fire, they could do it just too easily. He did not like the idea, but couldn't do much to help it, either. As long as they shared same interest, everyone was safe.

Crossing the distance, he reached the gathered Orcs. The smaller creatures were roughly shoved aside, the Uruks providing him a way to the prisoner. True to their word, there was an Elf, alive. Gazing down at the creature, the Man frowned. The Elf was not bound, yet he made no move to fight. He merely lay there, breathe laboured, eyes glazed. "Is he wounded? Deadly?" the Man asked.

"Shot with an arrow. He probably won't last, but the Elves are tough," one of the Uruk-hai answered, gazing at the slender being with hungry, malice-filled eyes. "Shall we kill him?" The creature sounded all too eager to fill the plan.

"We do not need more burden," another Man pointed out, halting beside the smaller, still frowning Man. "Let the Orcs finish it, and move on."

"Wait…" the small Man said, holding his hand up. He kneeled on the ground, reaching towards the Elf. He searched the tunic for a while, and then found what he was looking for. He revealed an embroidery marking on the collar. "I have seen this sign, on my years in Dale." He caressed the mark with his fingers, a smile playing upon his lips. "This sign is only carried by those of a high rank in Woodland Realm. _Royal_ rank."

"So?" the other Man asked. "It is only an Elf, noble blood or no. He has no gold or jewellery with him."

"But in eyes of some, he is worth much," the small Man smiled coldly. "They say that Elessar is in Helm's Deep. And the King, of what I have heard, has a… deep affection towards Elves."

The other Man thought of this. "We shall not win a battle with a prisoner," he said haltingly.

"Nay, but we may gain an upper hand in a strategic place."

"The Elf might die on the way."

The small Man shrugged, rising back to his feet. "Then we lose nothing."

The other two Men accepted this, the silent one approaching the group. "Let's be on our way, then," he said gruffly. "Tzórag isn't going to be happy if we make it there when the battle is already over." The leader Uruk growled in affirmation: they had the same orders, and he knew the price he would pay if they came late.

Nodding, the small Man took a step back to allow his bigger companion closer to the Elf. The other Man took an axe from his belt, weighting it in his hands. The Orcs watched in silence, as if still hoping the Elf would be killed. The Firstborn was suddenly very still, as if expecting the killing stroke. "He is aware of us," the small Man snorted. Then he turned and returned to his horse. "Take him upon yours," he noted to the Man with the axe.

Rafél, engaged to his seemingly endless battle against the poison, was only dimly aware of the discussion taking place beside him. He was still confused: Orcs had no habit of keeping Elves alive, if they were not to be tortured. Few of them had touched him, especially after realising he was not going anywhere on his own. _I just hope the others have better fortune than I_, he prayed. It was only a matter of time before his life would end – rather painfully so. If not the poison, then the foul creatures around him would take care of it.

As the voices went on, Rafél forced his attention back to focus. They were speaking of him. Of King Elessar. Of a battle… Trying to sort out the information with his faltering thoughts, the guardian felt a new wave of dread swell inside him. Yet he had no time to ponder, as something solid hit his head, hard. Blackness came rushing down on him.

**

* * *

**

The dawn was near when Legolas finally regained consciousness. His eyes blinked several times for focus, his senses informing him slowly. He was upon a horse, held in a comforting embrace. The only sound was that of hooves as the horses made their way across the plains.

Shifting, Legolas took in the group around him, briefly wondering why he was riding with Dínnor. The back of his neck hurt, the ache somewhat dulled by now as he began to master his body again. Not a single word greeted him, and with a puzzled frown, the Prince glanced around again.

Everyone rode in deadly silence. Gimli sat alone atop of Morchaint, but for once, the horse seemed to be mindful of his rider and did nothing to dislocate the Dwarf. Shannai and Fundal rode together, Adír with Thalión. Thrénandu kept his distance to others, seemingly brooding over something. Alone, beside the other free horses, trotted Lumén.

One glance at the horse, and Legolas' memory flared. Images invaded his mind. His heart clenched in agony, and all the discomfort he had felt drowned in dark realisation. His _fëa_ was almost hushed, dwelling in some dark hiding-place, mourning over its lost companion. _If Rafél had not locked me outside, I could have shared his last moment_, he thought with remorse. _I would know, for sure… I could have shared his pain. He would have reassured me: that we shall meet again…_ Instead, his guardian had brutally pushed him aside, forbidding him from using their bond. For the first time in months, Legolas felt completely alone.

All his dreams, all his hopes, ruined. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, but the dark void that now replaced his heart. Leaning back against Dínnor, uncaring how weak it made him look, he closed his eyes. His hands, fisted in his lap, caused pain, yet it did not rival his inner agony. _Grief a moment_, Legolas allowed to himself. _Lose it all, for a moment. Then you must gather yourself, and see for the things that matter more than you ever will. After that…_ He did not smile. But in his mind's eyes he already welcomed a vision of letting go. He was too tired to fight on. Rafél had given him faith, held him up when he would have collapsed. _Alone, I am not going to make it. And I do not even want to._

**

* * *

**

The day was a good way past afternoon. The sky was clouded again, lengthening the shadows ever more. Under the leaves of a small wood created by some two dozen of trees, the company had halted, giving both the horses and themselves a long-needed rest. The Dwarves would have preferred an open land to stay on, but the trees seemed to give the Elves a feel of security, and so none protested.

As the others stood or sat nearby, Dínnor and Thrénandu discussed of their next move. It was a hushed argument, though only the Captain seemed to have some kind of a plan in his mind. Dínnor merely wished them to wait until someone presented another plan of action. No one looked to Legolas' direction, though it was clear that the Prince's words would be heard before they moved anywhere.

Gimli, sitting on a trunk of a fallen tree, paid little attention to the discussing Elves. The light weight on his lap, the silken hair under his caressing hand, were enough to draw his entire concentration. After dismounting, he had pulled Legolas aside with him. The Elf had looked almost relieved when he settled down next to the Dwarf. Before Gimli knew it, Legolas' head rested on his knees, the lithe body pressed close to him. A silent request for comfort, and the lord of the Glittering Caves was not one to refuse.

Travelling his thumb over a cheekbone once again, Gimli was almost disappointed when he found no wetness there. Legolas had not cried. If he had, his short companion would have felt somewhat more at ease: now he was afraid. The empty, lifeless look in the blue eyes made his heart clench in agony. He felt a need to do something. Say something. Yet he had no words to his friend. Nothing he could come up with could possibly rival the Elf's sorrow – not ease the pain of the other felt inside.

Moving his fingers in a slow, gentle motion, Gimli was soon lost in thought. He had been always aware of the strong relationship between the Prince and his Guardian. Ever since seeing the two together for the first time, he had known Rafél was something special for Legolas. During their latest adventures, something had changed. He was not sure what – few seemed to be aware of it, though most believed that Thalión knew something. However it was, he had a living testimony of that relationship here in his arms: Legolas had not uttered a single word since regaining consciousness. He seemed to avoid everyone – even the life itself. Gimli felt humbled that the Elf actually allowed him to offer whatever comfort he could give. _How I wish you were here, Rafél. Not that it would only solve this entire problem, but you would know what to do._ Glancing down at the pale mask of beauty, Gimli considered once again if he should say something. But Legolas seemed completely ignorant of the world around him, and the Dwarf finally decided his words would go to deaf ears.

A movement on his side caught Gimli's attention, and he lifted his eyes from his friend. Thalión, who had been silent for a long while – actually ever since Dínnor had commanded them to move out – cast a mournful look at Legolas. A small smile was bestowed upon Gimli, a silent praise in the powder blue depths. Finally, after listening Dínnor's and Thrénandu's debate for a good while, he looked ready to join the others.

Something in the Cousin's posture spoke volumes, making the two, discussing Elves halt their conversation in alarm. Dínnor met his younger relative's eyes carefully, visibly cringing back when their gazes met. Asthaldo stepped forward, but halted again, deciding it was better not to interfere. He had seen this coming: Thalión was close to snapping. Now it was time to take out his frustration, anger and sorrow.

"You knew," Thalión practically seethed taking one more step towards Dínnor. Only two feet away from each other, they both held their ground. "You _knew_ he was hurt! And yet you did nothing!" It was simple enough to guess whom they were talking about.

"I obeyed the order he gave me," Dínnor replied, trying to keep his voice in check. If his temper flared, he did not want to take it out on his cousin.

Thalión snorted disgustedly. "Using common sense seems to be beyond you…"

"Do you so wish to see me lay there, arrow in my back?" Dínnor all but roared, eyes blazing. For that would have been his fate, had he stayed with Rafél. Thalión was not the only one hurting here. 'Guilt' was a word too lame to describe the pang of emotions he tried to struggle down at the very moment. He knew he had made a mistake. He knew there was none to blame but him. And if it would come to that, he would not deny it. Just now… he needed to ease some of the pain searing him from the inside.

Thalión began to show signs of pure fury as well, knowing Dínnor could take all he had to offer. "Would it be my choice –"

"Silence!" The pure strength and roughness in the voice silenced every ounce of sound. Everyone turned in dismay and shock to look at Gimli. "If you must, continue your quarrel somewhere else." The Dwarf glared angrily at the two ashamed Elves. His hand hovered over Legolas ear, still caressing the braided hair. "Legolas?" he asked then, so softly that few could believe these two different tones belonged to the same creature.

Legolas actually shifted, blinking himself out of whatever reverie he had been in. Slowly, the Prince sat up, his eyes meeting no one. Without hesitation, he stood and walked away from the trunk he had been laying on, halting some distance away from the others. His back turned to his companions, eyes staring at the shadows, he pulled his hands around his body, as if trying to seek comfort.

Dínnor was the first who dared to move, taking a small step towards the younger Elf. Regret shone in his eyes, his voice broken and hushed as he spoke. "Legolas, you must understand: had there been any other option –"

"I do not hold this against you, Dínnor," Legolas interrupted him. His voice was even, calm, pure of emotions, completely distant. Reminding Gimli of the Dead they had summoned, long years ago, under Dunharrow. "He made his choice… however lost the purpose of it may be to me." Silence drew in length, everyone sensing Legolas was not done yet. Nor had any of them anything to say; words would not amend deeds done. Finally, Legolas lifted his gaze, staring at the sky, then back at the open land beyond the trees. "I go south," he stated. His eyes could not make out the shape, but he knew that the White Mountains lay before him, in the distance. "Those who wish may continue north. I shall join Aragorn and inform him of this new threat." He frowned, the expression unseen to the others. "How could we ask aid from those who do not have the means to defend themselves?" he whispered, knowing that those few who could make out his words would understand his reasons to go south, instead of home: there would be no help offered to them from north. Maybe Dwarves could spare some of their warriors, but soon enough they might have their own battles to fight. As much as it hurt Legolas to admit it, he had come all this way for naught. _And for the top of it all, I pay a high price of it._ He did not dwell in the idea, knowing he would entertain the thought long enough on their way to Rohan – as well as long after.

The lack of help was not the only reason why Legolas wished to alter his course. The shadow of Dol Guldur was growing, and he wished to be as far from the place as possible. Entering Eryn Lasgalen might end up fatal to them all, as well. He had learned his lesson in one go. If others decided not to go on with him and join their people, he would not be responsible.

"Let us be on our way, then," said Thrénandu suddenly, calling for his horse. "Sooner we get back to safe lands, swifter we can spread news of our enemy's movements." There was surprise on more faces than one, but none disagreed. They were mounted and riding in two minutes, making their way steadily, everyone keeping a sharp eye for any threat imaginable.

An hour later, Legolas suddenly drew apart from the others, guiding Morchaint to a small hill slightly aside from their path. His eyes searched River Anduin, and the forest he could barely make out in the coming evening. His heart slowed its pace, time stopping. The miles between the two places disappeared, the world vanishing. All that remained was the uncertainty, the pain, the loneliness… _How can I go on without you? You promised to protect me, to keep me safe: who now will fill your oath, Guardian? Who now shall protect my heart? How can I now save myself from the shadows that grow with each passing minute…_

"You know, you shall meet him again," said a gentle, fair voice, dropping Legolas back to the living world. Shannai's horse stood beside Morchaint, the light green eyes shining with compassion. There was no joy in their depths, none of their normal liveliness. "He will wait for you, and when the time comes…" Shannai halted, frowning. "He would not wish you to hurry, so do not do anything… stupid," he said with an attempt of a smirk.

Legolas nodded. How could he tell his best friend he was so tired, that none of this seemed to matter anymore? That most of all, he feared himself. What lay beneath all the layers of slipping control. Rafél had known of the darkness within, trying to give Legolas enough strength to bar it away. Now, Legolas was not certain how long he could fight the yearning inside him.

The Dwarves, seated behind the Elves, shifted slightly. With a sad smile, Shannai touched Legolas' arm briefly, then turned his horse and rode back to the others who had now halted to wait.

Staring at the distance for a moment longer, Legolas guided Morchaint back, taking his place on the head of the company. His mind now rested on the travel before him, he pushed his dark thoughts back. There would be time for them, later…

**

* * *

**

"I can't believe this!"

Shannai was not alone with his opinion. The entire group, staring at the direction of the Helm's Deep from a high rise, saw what the Elf did – and fully agreed. This was getting almost ridiculous.

"It is not the same army," Thalión almost groaned, shaking his head. "They have been joined by the force of the Orcs that parted their way from the army _we_ saw… But the Men are from elsewhere."

"From East," Dínnor muttered.

"What do we do now?" Fundal asked, crestfallen. "There is no way we are going to get inside the Deep through that number of enemies."

Dínnor chewed his lower lip, Thalión eyed the army once more, Shannai rubbed his temple in obvious misery, and the Dwarves looked thoughtful. Legolas, observing the area much as Thalión did, came suddenly aware of Gimli and Adír starting a debate on their own language. The discussion did not last long, but taking in Fundal's brightening expression, the Dwarves had come up with an answer.

"We know how to get inside," Gimli finally said, fingering his beard thoughtfully. "But the horses cannot enter that way."

"The horses know how to stay out of trouble," Thalión stated.

"Good. Then let us move on, before the fight actually starts," Gimli decided, moving towards Morchaint. Legolas followed him suite, secretly smiling at his companions' confused looks. They did not like this, being ordered around by a _Naug_. No one was about to argue, however, and with a swift gallop, the riders made their way west from the Deep.

They reached the White Mountains a few miles from the citadel, dismounting swiftly. The Dwarves made their way up the rocky terrain, as if seeking for something. In the meanwhile, the Elves saw their horses off, giving them final pats and soft, comforting words before letting them go on their way. They would not go far, but being sensitive creatures, they would keep far from the foreign army.

"What do you think they are planning?" Asthaldo asked from his side beside Legolas as the Elves made their way after the smaller creatures.

"What would a Dwarf search from a mountain-side?" Legolas replied cryptically. His was not in a best of moods, but tried to keep himself from falling to a silent grieving. He needed to stay sharp now! Would he let his sorrow take the better of him, he would be no use to his friends.

"A cave?" Shannai suddenly gasped, almost bouncing. "They said they know a way inside. Getting inside means there has to be another entrance!"

"How very logical…" Thrénandu muttered, but was completely ignored by Shannai.

"True: we are seeking another entrance," came Gimli's voice, and a moment later the Dwarf appeared to their line of sight. "Hurry now, Elves! We had better make our way quickly, as the way is not short, and…" he halted, trying to find a proper choice of words. "These passages are rarely used." This made more than one Elf grimace in understanding: they might get lost. In a cave.

"Did you find the entrance?" Legolas asked instead, matter-of-factly. He had travelled with Gimli often enough to trust him underground. He had also spent time in Glittering Caves, which meant he was not a complete novice in caves. Yet he wanted this voyage to be over and done with, as soon as possible. Firstly, he had no desire to linger in cold, dark, oppressive cave-system any longer than he had to. And secondly, he was worried about Aragorn. They had no way of knowing if their companions were actually in Helm's Deep, but so they all believed. It was not much help they could offer, but they wished to give it, nonetheless.

"Yes, we found it alright," Gimli answered, waving with his hand impatiently. Unlike the Elves, he was eager to get into darkness, surrounded by solid walls of stone.

When the Elves saw the small entrance, more than one began to shake their heads. Even a Dwarf had to bow to fit in, only Fundal being short enough to be able to walk straight in. "The cave gets higher some distance ahead," Adír comforted the Elves, but the mirth in his eyes was not missed by any.

"Do we have torches?" Asthaldo asked suddenly. Everyone shook their heads. "Great…" he muttered. "Should we go and seek –" he suggested, gazing back at the open plains.

"We do not have the time," Legolas sighed. "Gimli?" he gestured towards the entrance, signalling that the Dwarf should lead the way.

"I will go first. Adír shall be the last. Fundal… Well, just be somewhere in the middle," Gimli snorted, then turned, adjusted the pack on his back, and plunged into the darkness. Legolas followed swiftly, showing his kinsmen this was no place to hesitation. Dínnor went next, followed by his cousins, Fundal, Shannai, Thrénandu, and finally Adír.

The darkness was so immense that it took a moment from all of them to adjust. Colliding into rocks and each other, they made their way forward slowly. It did not take long, however, before the natural glow of the Elves kept them from crashing to each other, illuminating the darkness with a phantom-like radiance. It took another lengthy moment before they came to a higher part of the cave, and the Elves could actually make their way on their feet, yet they still had to keep themselves bowed if they did not wish to make a closer acquaintance with the roof.

Moments ticked by, turning into eternity. Sense of time was easy to be lost in the darkness, and soon they were simply just walking, unaware of the minutes – or hours – passing them. Deeper they went, led by Gimli, the Dwarf never halting for a break or to check his direction. When they came to a junction of several tunnels, the Dwarves looked this way and that, then picking up their pace again. They seemed certain enough of where they were going.

Down, of that Thalión was sure. The passage was not steep, but he could sense it running lower. It made him feel no less troubled. The walls seemed to be closing upon him, suffocating. He had visited caves before, but this was not even a common tunnel: it was unused, a path dug for situations like theirs. Not for the first time, he envied Legolas careless way of walking ahead; the Prince didn't even seem to notice they were under several dozens of miles of stone.

To tell the truth, Legolas was barely aware of his surroundings. His mind travelled its own paths, his body merely walking ahead after Gimli. His thoughts, however, seemed to be revolving around themselves, no clear pattern anywhere. It was like a dreamless sleep, a vision you could not remember when you wake.

The other Elves were hushed and moved carefully. They felt trapped, but there was nothing to do for the matter but bear it. Thalión was visibly stressed, but the others let him be: better that than to enter the panic-filled thoughts themselves.

Shannai, as expected, was the first to break the long silence. "Where is this tunnel leading into?" His voice was light, conversational, and it took an instant from his kin to understand he did not share their distress. He sounded almost… curious.

"To Glittering Caves," Gimli answered from the head of the company.

Shannai's eyes widened in the darkness, his breath catching in his throat. "You mean Aglarond? The dwelling-place of the Dwarves?" Of course Gimli meant the very same place, and he also knew it, but he kept babbling like an over-excited child. And excited he was. Long he had waited to go and visit Gimli's new home, to meet his people, to learn everything – more or less – worth knowing of them. Now the chance stood before him, some miles away. His companions could hear him bounce restlessly, and for the rest of the way, Shannai chatted in unceasing litany. It didn't matter if someone took notice or not: his enthusiasm was too great to be dulled by such a minor detail.

When finally, probably hours after, they entered a larger tunnel, Dwarves seemed to join into Shannai's joy. They recognised these parts. No more guessing of the road: it stood clear before them, familiar and inviting. The Elves followed the three other creatures, stretching their bodies as they finally were able to walk straight.

After a minute or two, they entered a more commonly used cave. The walls were smooth and round, speaking of several hours of work upon them. Yet there were places, great halls full of glimmering stones, that had not been touched by any hand.

Turning another round, they came across a group of Dwarves, both companies halting in surprise. The Dwarves, recognising Gimli, made honouring bows and spoke in their language, answering Gimli's questions swiftly. After a short converse, Gimli turned to the Elves, his face grave. "The enemy is fully settled before the Deep. There is no way out. Or well, routes like the one we used… But, anyway, Aragorn's group is here! They just reached the place before the army of Men arrived. And you were right," he said pointedly at Dínnor, "they came from east. From where, how, or why, no one knows yet."

"Then let us go and find our friends," Asthaldo decided when Legolas made no move to reply. Gimli nodded, and led the way again. When they passed a greatest hall of stone they had seen, glimmering lakes and pillars of stone filling it, they saw first signs of battle: women, children, and the elderly people sat in small groups, hushed and worried expressions on their faces. Gimli and Legolas remembered only too well the last time they had witnessed such a sight.

The people stared at the passing group, shock and awe on their faces. They had seen Eldar on the battlement, with their King, yet there was more now. Especially the one that kept smiling at them, looking around in a fashion none of them had witnessed from an Elf before.

"Come and stop gaping," Thrénandu hissed and pulled Shannai along when the Elf would have halted to let a small child touch him. "These people are confused enough: you do not need to add it."

Shannai merely shrugged, waving his hand at the child as they exited the caves.

It was a short way through the citadel, the Men giving way to the unexpected company. Heads were bowed, but the Elves spared no thought at that. They would soon fight side by side, if it came down to a battle. And none of them expected the enemy army just to camp outside the fortress for nothing.

Reaching the fresh outside air, the Elves welcomed it gladly. Just standing there for a moment, outside the wide doors, they looked at the blue sky, the sun shining down on them, a lazy wind blowing across the air. When the gazes lowered, fair faces darkened in recognition: a future obstacle of their plans lay before the stoned walls. The number of the villains seemed even greater now they had a closer look.

Shannai was already glancing around eagerly, but knew better than to go wandering: they had important tasks to attend. He could venture later. _And that I surely will do, having come this far!_ he promised to himself.

"Aragorn!" Gimli shouted suddenly, making his way towards an approaching group. The Man looked up from his discussion with Gandalf, blinking is surprise. The Men, Elves, and two Hobbits stopped on their tracks, disbelief evident on their faces. Then the two parties made their way to each other, hands clasped in greeting.

"What in the name of Valar are you doing here?" Aragorn asked as soon as he regained his voice.

"How did you get inside?" Pippin asked immediately, frowning.

"As for why, you can guess," Asthaldo said, hinting at the army before the Deep. "And how…" he glanced at the Dwarves with a smile, "our friends here know more ways in than one might believe."

Aragorn nodded, his eyes seeking Legolas. The Elf was quiet enough to go unnoticed. The blue eyes stared at the army gathered before the gates, tracing at the movements of Men on the battlements. A warrior inspecting the situation, the King of Men decided. Yet there was something… wrong. His eyes checked the group again, a frown appearing to his face. Something unsettling was upon all of the arrivals. "Where is Rafél?" he finally asked, noticing one of the Elves was missing. He saw two new, Shannai and Thrénandu, recalling their names from the past, but at the moment he was more puzzled with a certain Guardian's absence.

The silence that followed was all but pleasant. Legolas' eyes dropped to the stone under his feet, refusing to meet the curious glances. The Dwarves looked at the Elves, waiting for them to explain. The Firstborns, usually quick and smooth with words, cast their eyes down. It took a long time before Dínnor answered, his voice low and broken: "We lost Rafél."

_to be continued…_

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**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**  
_Naugrim_ – Dwarves (_Naug_ - Dwarf)

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**Author's Notes: **Ha! Finally! This took long enough to write… and what a headache it was! But now it is done, and it is _your_ turn to speak out: how was it? (I know, it could have been better…)

In the next chapter, as promised, we shall join in with… Thaíly! Yes, he will be the ultimate star of that chapter! And for those wishing to see more of him: breathe easily! He is going to have more prominent role in the future.

For the next time, ciao!


	39. Chapter 37: Underestimating Allies

**Author's Notes:** I do not have to tell none of you that it has been far too long since my last update! But here it is, finally, the next chapter! I hope everyone enjoys it, as much have I enjoyed working on this story again! :)

As promised, this piece is dedicated to Thaíly – more or less… In addition, I would like to present a warning of _torture_ that is going to take place in this chapter. (Not what you think, probably, but it is only fair to give you a forewarning! ;)

Now then: read and enjoy!

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**Chapter 37: Underestimating Allies**

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**Near the southern Eryn Lasgalen**

Thaíly could have never been considered as a cheery individual. It was part of his nature to remain gloomy and grumpy, sarcastically humoured at best. Yet today, he was in a worse mood than usual. The reason – if one knew it – was an explanation enough.

He disliked failure; loathed it to the very end of his existence. It made him boil with dark fire that no fury of a Balrog could ever rival. And today… today he had failed most remarkably. Thaíly did not bother himself with excuses when he knew none of them would actually be useful. Only way to restore the things even to some kind of a healthy order was to act. Bantering with himself would take him nowhere.

"Useless Firstborns… I will gut that Guardian on own two his feet, when I meet him the next time…" Thaíly had kept muttering to himself for a long while now. Even when he had hunted down a lonesome Orc, he had not held back his irritation and malcontent. The dark creature had no idea if the half-vampire's anger was placed on it or not, but it did not risk its life by speaking out.

Thaíly kept circling the crouching Orc, his eyes gleaming in the late light of the evening. The mere sight of him kept the vile creature on its place on the ground, and he could feel the ugly eyes on him, following his every movement. They both knew the Orc was going to meet its life's end soon, and Thaíly would be more than happy to arrange the meeting with death.

Fingering his long, curved knife, Thaíly went over the latest events – something he had kept doing time after time during the day, and which always made him end up even more irritated in the end. He had been following the trail of the Black Riders – as he has promised to Legolas. When the Nine – constantly accompanied by the mysterious One – had entered Dol Guldur, Thaíly had thought better to take some distance to the evil party. His attention had been caught first by the dark army, then by a small Elven group. Shannai and his companions had offered him some momentary sport, and he far-tracked them until they met another company.

He had been tempted to approach Legolas, but knowing it was not yet the time, he had taken some time to himself. That had been a big mistake.

Legolas' company had turned to follow the army, and they had been attacked. By the time Thaíly heard of this – he had his sources, plus his senses rarely went amiss – he was too far to help his Prince. Of what he knew, Legolas was safe and on his way to Helm's Deep. Rafél, on the other hand…

Thaíly muttered in disgust, shaking his head. He knew Legolas would be looked after, even in the absence of his Guardian. Yet the company travelling to Rohan was clueless for the fact that another army waited them there. _One more reason I should have went off to speak with Legolas_, Thaíly scolded himself, but it was too late. The mistake was done. Now all he could do was to fix his err.

Turning to the shaking Orc – yes, shaking: he always found a way to make those pitiful excuses of a life tremble before his feet – he allowed himself to halt his furious mind for a moment. Calculating expression crossed his face, and he took a step closer to the Orc. The creature had broken its other leg – the reason why it had been left behind – and it made a wholly miserable picture before him. "Tell me where your group was heading at," he spoke up, making the creation of Morgoth flinch back.

The Orc eyes narrowed, and it made no answer. _Bold, stupid creature_, Thaíly thought to himself, an ugly smile appearing to his face. He stepped forward, making the remaining space between them disappear, and cut off the Orc's left ear. The creature shrieked, covering the injured spot, black blood running down between the clawed fingers. "Maybe you did not hear me well enough," Thaíly pressed on, moving closer every time the Orc tried to create more distance between them. "Where is that army heading at? The one that came along the mountains from the North?" His tone was even, almost smooth – as far as it was possible with his naturally raspy voice – but it was underlined with such darkness and malice that the Orc knew better than to refuse answering for another time.

"Two armies," it spat, nervous eyes glaring at its tormentor. Thaíly's expression told he wanted to hear more, and with a lot of spitting and cursing, the Orc went on. "One came from the north, with _her_. Meeting was held, they say. The other, army of Men, came from East. The ones on the Mountains who did not join _her_ were supposed to join the Men."

The Orc clearly meant the Orcs and other dark beings dwelling in the hidden caves on the Misty Mountains. Yet what the pitiful creature meant with "_her_", Thaíly was more than willing to find out. He had heard rumours: of Eastern Men gathering, the shadows deepening in Mordor, and that some "Dark One" was lifting its power after years of peace. This all had been a blurred entity made of small pieces of information. Moreover, Thaíly personally knew how difficult it was to get information from the dark ones – the kind of information that one could count on.

"Who is '_her_'? What is '_her_'?" Thaíly questioned, throwing the second part as an afterthought. One could use such knowledge as of "what" they were facing.

The Orc looked at him with a most peculiar – and unhealthy – way, then snorted. "If you do not know, you are not meant to."

"I am not going to ask again."

"Then don't," the Orc said triumphantly, its ugly fangs revealed as it grinned up to the half-vampire before it.

Thaíly didn't bother to use the knife the second time. The Orc's cry of pain was a sweet sound to him, and he watched with a wry smile as the creature clutched onto its still partly attached right ear. "Maybe we'll backtrack a little," he murmured, fingering his blade impatiently. "Who is 'her'?"

The Orcs eyes seemed to turn in shade, a look of malice and self-content appearing to its disgusting features. "If you do not already know, you are not _meant_ to, either. But don't worry," the Orc almost cooed, "everyone will know, soon. _Everyone!_ Not a single life in this world shall ask 'who?' when she is done with them!"

Somehow, Thaíly knew the Orc's statement was final. The vile creature would tell him no more. Yet that kind of a minor obstacle had never stopped him from trying – or at least seeking entertainment for himself. He crept closer to the Orc, balancing the blade in his fingers. The creature's smile faltered, its eyes narrowing in suspicion as he drew closer; for there was only one predator here, and for once it was not the Orc.

With a move quicker than the eye, Thaíly was crouching before the Orc, the blade embedded to the earth through the creature's already broken leg. The sound of the steel running through bone and muscle was sickening, yet Thaíly merely smiled. The Orc was almost whimpering by then, hissing with pain, seeing its own death mirrored in the dark eyes.

Orcs are not afraid of death, nor pain – they are born from it, after all – but there are certain ways to make them suffer of the fear of death. Thaíly had made an art of that, though he had no idea how he managed that in the beginning. Maybe it was a skill he had been born with. "Are you certain you do not wish to share more information with me?" he asked again, almost kindly. His tone was still a cold chill compared to the one used with Legolas, yet the Orc did not know that – nor did Thaíly care to ponder about that himself; the way he spoke was highly competitive with the way he acted.

The Orc made a weak attempt to drive its torturer back, but soon found itself stricken back to the ground. The blade was pulled free, this time plunged to the heaving chest, the remnants of armour only a hindrance. A gurgled sound escaped the Orc's throat, its eyes widening somewhat. Blood rushed from the wretched body, making Thaíly draw back in annoyance.

Wiping his blade clean, distantly listening to the now coughing Orc, Thaíly tried to decide what to do. One thing was sure: Legolas and his bloody excuse of an escort were heading straight to a disaster, and he was too far to help his Prince. _Way or another, that group will be in danger. Which means Legolas is in danger._ He couldn't have cared less if whole Rohan was burned to dust and Elves banished to Valinor as spirits. All he cared for was Greenleaf, his strange fascination and loyalty still at work after so many years. _Some things just won't change, even if they made no sense in the beginning, either._ He smiled at the thought of their first meeting, then suddenly pursed his lips as an idea entered his mind. "In the beginning…" he murmured.

His eyes narrowed as he calculated his chances, the Orc keeping up its suffering beside him. He paid the creature no heed, knowing it would die on its own accord; he was not going to release it to an early death. Let the thing suffer for few hours, and keep its information as a vain consolation.

_Might it actually work?_ Thaíly pondered. He went through his options yet again, to make sure his actions would be the right ones. _Well, of the two evil, why not to pick the lesser one? Against an army, I have little chances… Plus, I have no interest to see Legolas in either the hands of Men, or 'her'._ Yet he was not completely sure if the third option was that good. But his intuition had sparsely failed him, and he was counting on it now. Either way, Legolas was in danger. How big the challenge to save him would be was what counted most; some things just were less impossible than the others were.

"Morisûl!" Thaíly shouted for his horse, the animal soon appearing from the darkness. Giving the Orc a one, final glance – and deciding it was barely going to survive to see the sunrise – Thaíly mounted and steered his steed towards the north. He had a hard ride in front of him, and in the other end laid a wall of uncertainty. However, if this ended the worse possible way, he decided, he was going to get rid of one problem forever: he would be free from his ties to Legolas, and could go on, as he wanted.

Yet for some reason, he doubted that he would easily swallow it if events came down to that. He was rather going to fight to keep his Prince safe before giving him up for death.

**

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**

Dol Guldur. The place sent shivers down anyone's spine, no matter how destroyed the fortress was. The evil lingering here was too great to vanish, even by time. As of late, it had only been increasing.

Gritting his jaws together, Thaíly spurred Morisûl ahead. The horse was reluctant to go any closer to the ruins, but knew it had little choice when its master wished to go on. Not that Thaíly was happy about it, either, but he had no other option. His mind was set.

They entered the Valley of Shadow, but did not manage to reach Dol Guldur before the wind changed in the trees. Something akin to distant screams echoed in the air, a wail of some tormented soul lingering long after the echoes faded. The place reeked of malice, death, and pure evil. A part of Thaíly was thrilled by this, loving this place already, but the greater part of his consciousness kept it in check: not a single living spirit wished to stay here any longer than they had to, and neither did he.

Sound of hooves appeared in the darkness, drawing closer. In the rest of the world, it was already a new day, but in the Valley the shadows were too thick to be penetrated. Yet Thaíly had never minded darkness, the lack of light giving him shelter, hiding most of his activities. But _this_ gloom … it was not natural.

The sound of approaching horses drew nearer, and soon they appeared to Thaíly's sight. Morisûl moved restlessly as the Nine Riders surrounded them, but Thaíly merely snorted. He had expected this to happen miles before he reached the Valley. _Oh, well, might as well do it this way. As long as I get my task done properly._ "I demand to see your leader," he said aloud, not bothering to try and seek Angmar from among his companions. They would get the message.

"Why should we allow you to meet our leader?" one of the Nine asked, its voice straight from the world of death.

What puzzled Thaíly more than receiving an actual answer was that the Nazgûl did not deny they _had_ a leader, in the first place. This showed a new setting of a power play, and for the first time, Thaíly was uncertain what he had gotten himself into. _Well, only one way to find out._ "I have information to him that might be useful." This wasn't actually true, not knowing how well aware these Nine – or actually Ten – were of the events of the past few days. Bigger question was; would they care? Thaíly had an impression they would, but then again, it was only an intuition playing on the back of his mind…

"And what information we might be interested of? I have my doubts that you can offer me nothing I would have interest in," a new voice entered the discussion. It was smooth, almost fair if there had not been the edge of uttermost darkness. The Tenth rode forth, halting before Thaíly as the Nazgûl drew silently aside to let him pass.

Thaíly allowed himself a moment of inspection, tying to figure what exactly he was facing. This one differed from any evil creature he had ever faced, and it unnerved him greatly. _Perhaps Legolas will make more out of it_, he decided, a dark smile tugging his lips. Yes, it had been the Elf who had first told him there was Ten instead of Nine, which meant Legolas knew something he did not… "A party of Elves and Dwarves was attacked over a day ago by a group of Orcs coming from the Mountains. Most of them survived, and are now making their way to Rohan." The other cocked his head, as if trying to figure what all this had to do with him. Nazgûl moved restlessly, as if waiting for an order to rip Thaíly apart. Yet he went on, his voice even: "In Rohan, an army of Men has arrived from the East. Which puts this small party into great danger."

Silence.

Thaíly knew it was the moment to get to the point. _Better have Legolas safe than dead_, he reminded himself again. "Legolas of Woodland Realm travels with that group. They might make it to some Rohan fortress, but I see no hope beyond that. The Prince is in grave danger."

The Tenth shifted on his horse, eyes flashing in the shadows. "You are daring the ice, Thaíly," he stated slowly, "but for your luck, it is the _right_ ice."

Thaíly blinked, that being his only visible reaction he gave. What the other meant… he had no clue. But it was definitely better than most of the other options he had listed in his mind.

The Tenth seemed to be having a debate with himself, his tone thoughtful. "Tzórag is untrustworthy at best… He shall not value Legolas' life if he gets his hands on him…" The Nazgûl lifted their heads, like attentive dogs. The shadows around them seemed to stop from spinning, as if waiting the Tenth's decision. It was swiftly made. "You probably don't understand what this all is leading to – and you are not meant to. But know that your Prince's life is valuable to some."

_And no doubt you are one of them_, Thaíly replied in his mind, nodding slightly.

Without another word, the Tenth rode forth, shadows parting before him, and Thaíly did not doubt for a moment that Legolas was in any lesser trouble than he was already in. Only this trouble would keep him alive… The Nine circled around him, alarming the half-vampire anew. Instead of attacking, however, one of the Dark Riders halted beside him. _Angmar_, Thaíly decided swiftly, trying to keep Morisûl from bolting away.

"A word of advice to you, in return," Angmar stated, its voice a menacing hiss in the dark. "Beware the royal blood of Mirkwood. The King has already fallen."

One of the Nine released an ear-chattering shriek, and the Riders rode to the darkness, vanishing like mist in the sunrise. Though there was no sun here, darkness seemed to suit them just fine.

Allowing his breath out as a long sigh, Thaíly collected himself. It was done, and only thing he could do was to hope for the best. Now he had to decide his next move… Following the Ten back south was a temptation, yet there was something else… "Perhaps a little amount of additional information won't hurt anyone," he said, patting Morisûl's neck. The horse snorted, shaking its great head.

With a dark look, Thaíly turned Morisûl to the direction of north. Angmar's words had an ugly ring on the back of his mind, repeating themselves time after time. There was something evil at work in here…

_to be continued…_

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**Author's Note:** Here we are, again, in the end :) (Those who did not know, Thaíly thought back at the events of "Loyalty to Blood", and his first meeting with Legolas.) I know (or hope) that many are already planning on their reviews, and I thank you people in advance!

In the next chapter (giving you a teaser has become a habit, and I rather like it ;), we shall return to Helm's Deep – where some unexpected events shall take place! Prepare for a long chapter, blood and pain, tears and gut-wrenching events (at least that I am planning to cause you… we'll see how I manage in the task). Take care, everyone!


	40. Chapter 38: Heart Versus Duty

**Author's Notes:** Hello everyone (supposing someone is reading this, and has not given up on me – or this story)! It has been long time since TLJ was updated. Yet now I am about to release one more chapter, before going on with other stuff for a while again.

In this chapter, we shall have some… intense torture. So beware! At least I was not attempting to make it under "suitable for children" –license. The rest, stay comfortable in your chairs and enjoy – while you still can.

The next update will take place within the next few months – I hope. I wish to see you all along when that happens! Do not get annoyed with me, please.

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**Chapter 38: Heart Versus Duty**

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**Helm's Deep**

"We lost Rafél."

Dínnor's words were like poison. A swiftly spreading one of that, paralysing everything in a matter of seconds. It also seemed to affect the comprehension, as the people around him kept staring at the newcomers as if they did not understand what had just been said. A hushed, oppressive silence hung above them like the shadow of the Dark One himself, making the Rohirrim halt around them in alarm.

Then all eyes turned to Legolas.

"How?" Aragorn was the first one to recover. "How is that possible?" When Legolas showed lack of any reaction, his eyes shifted from confusion to worry.

"Did you make it to the Woodland Realm?" Gandalf asked, his brow furrowed with thought.

"Nay," Gimli answered. "We had just crossed the Mountains when we spotted an army moving south. We followed them – and met a group of Elves," he cast a glance at Thénandu and Shannai. "We agreed to follow the army, and even did so… but they divided, one part turning to south – here – and the rest continuing to east. We decided to head south, to warn you. Another group attacked us, however…" The Dwarf shifted in obvious distress. "We were trapped in a forest, and made a mad dash out of there, in hope to reach our horses before the enemy caught us. Some of the Elves got wounded, and Rafél fell behind to help them."

"Why couldn't he just stay by Legolas' side, as he is supposed to?" Shannai muttered. Immediately after the words left his mouth he shot a frightened glance at Legolas – who was not paying attention the slightest. To an Elf, this was something completely unnatural.

"Rafél was wounded," Dínnor whispered.

Legolas' head shot up, his previously empty eyes turning cold like frozen steel, completely directed at the eldest Cousin. His eyes were cold and emotionless. Almost threatening.

Dínnor met Legolas' eyes with bravery that many did not possess. "He got an arrow to his leg. It was probably poisoned, or it would have not hindered him so."

"And you left him behind, _wounded_," Legolas' voice turned into a hiss. The air around them turned suddenly cold, as if some evil presence was hanging near, swirling closer... Gandalf took an alarmed step towards the Prince, lifting his staff slightly. Legolas flinched back, something akin to a shadow passing in his eyes and fading. Yet the anger was still there, radiating from him and making his Elven kinsmen shift with unease. On their way here, Legolas had told he did not hold any of this against Dínnor. Now, as he had thought about it and dwelled in his agony for a while longer, it seemed he had changed his mind. And no one blamed him. "You should have stayed with him," Legolas finally stated, his eyes no longer meeting Dínnor's – he countered none of the gazes directed at him, his blue eyes lowered at the stones beneath his feet.

"He told me to go after you – take you to safety. It mattered most to him, even in the end," Dínnor replied, feeling Thalión inch closer to him in silent support. What was done was done.

"It was his task, and nobody else's," the Prince whispered. "There will be no other to complete what he began…"

Silence fell over them again. Gandalf's eyes met Celeborn's, and something seemed to pass between them. "There is no time for further delay. All our lives are at stake here, today." All eyes moved to the enemy army gathered outside the walls. For a moment, most of them had forgotten why they really were here. Gandalf's words perhaps seemed cruel, but there was truth in them: if they did not make their plans now, it would be too late to try to do so later.

"Do we have a plan of action?" Gimli asked carefully.

Aragorn sighed, sharing a look with Éomer. "What do you think?" Aragorn finally asked from Gimli. "Your people live here: is there something we could do to bring us victory?"

Gimli seemed thoughtful, then shook his head resolutely. "Their number is great. _Far_ more greater than ours. Any attempt would be a suicide. Plus, I cannot make miracles," he shook his head again, then cast a dark look at the Istari clad in white. "Miracles and magical tricks are Wizards' territory."

"You do not expect him to make the whole lot of enemies vanish in the air, do you?" Erestor huffed. He had been silent until then, like a spirit following everything that happened around him. The fair features were calm – like every Elf's around him – but there was tenseness in his voice that could not be mistaken as anything else but fear.

"They cannot get in," Éomer began.

"But we can get out!" Shannai chided. "We came inside, and the same way can be used again. And I am sure there are more caves like that," he directed bright eyes at the Dwarves. No one else seemed to join his enjoyment, and he crossed his arms over his chest, almost pouting.

"We cannot get all the people out of here, not along the caves," Gimli explained patiently. "Plus, we would abandon the Deep by doing so."

Shannai lifted an eyebrow. "You think that a momentary loss of a citadel is the same as losing hundreds of lives?"

"Not all think like Elves," Asthaldo said with a hushed voice. "The Mortals do not possess enough time to do so."

Some of the Men looked ready to disagree, knowing how hard Elves used to hold on to their dwelling-places, but said not a word when Aragorn merely smiled sadly. Been raised among the Elves, he had grown to understand their way to see the world – and especially the way the Eldar viewed the Mortal. He perhaps didn't always agree with the Elves, but tried to see the logic behind their thoughts.

"If we are not going to leave, we must make sure we are prepared for battle at least," Glorfindel spoke out calmly, gazing at the enemy lines, then at their own battlements, and finally returned his eyes to his companions. "In number, we lose greatly; but we have the advance of holding a citadel that is almost impossible to be invaded."

"In the case they brought no exploding stuff with them, we should be just fine…" Gimli muttered.

"Is your group capable to fight?" Celeborn asked from Thalión, more out of courtesy than need for an answer; any of these warriors would have given an affirmative answer, whether in fighting condition or not.

"Are we?" Dínnor repeated the question, turning to Legolas. He was rewarded with a look full of cold fury. "I know you are very disappointed with me at the moment, my Prince – rest assured, you are not alone with that line of thought. But it cannot be helped! However, I made a promise to Rafél that I am about to keep: to keep _you_ safe. Wished it or not, I am going to look after you. And what I want to know now is are you able to fight? Can you concentrate on the matter at hand? Because if you cannot…" he paused, taking a calming breath, "I am not going to allow you to fight."

"And what else there is to do than fight?" Legolas spat. He clearly saw the reason behind the other's words, but challenged him anyway.

"There is plenty of space in the caves, and I am sure the women and children would take delight in you joining them," Dínnor retorted. There was obvious threat in his tone – he was not playing games. Not with Legolas' life, that everyone knew.

Holding the dun eyes for long moments, the Woodland Prince made everyone shift nervously around them. They all knew Legolas was stubborn when need be. "I am able," Legolas finally answered, loud and clear. There was no hesitation, no tremble in his voice. The pain in his eyes still remained, but he seemed far less distant than a minute ago.

"Good," Aragorn nodded, moving to clasp his friend's shoulder, hoping that Legolas spoke the truth. Not that he doubted Legolas would lie on such a matter – or would get away with it with the greatest of his kin around them – but he knew that hearts sometimes betrayed their owners to believe they were well. The King of Men knew many would be watching Legolas very closely during the battle, he among them. If there were any signs that made them doubt Legolas' capability to fight… "Let's get ready, then," he said aloud. "I deem you might use something to eat, and we need to make our plans…"

"What plans might those be?" Merry pondered as they moved inside the citadel.

"I do not honestly care, as long as it involves food," Pippin replied and hurried along. He knew that hungry Dwarves were almost as bad as Hobbits.

Well, almost…

* * *

**Some hours later**

"My Lord!"

A Rohirrim warrior came rushing in, making his Lord among others to lift his head from the silent discussion of tactics. Gandalf kept sucking on his pipe, eyes on the approaching Man. Aragorn was pretty much like him, though his features revealed a lot more emotions than the Wizard's. All of the Elves were fully alert now, even if some were not looking directly at the arrival. Everyone could sense something was about to happen.

"What is it?" Éomer asked, dreading the answer but knowing he had to make the question nonetheless.

"The leader of the enemy has stepped forth," the soldier explained, watching from foreign leaders to his own.

"Very well," Gandalf muttered. "Let us go outside and hear what he has to say."

There was no objections as they all stood and marched to the outer battlement. While walking down the long stairs to reach a place on the Deeping Wall from where the enemies could be best seen – close to the same location where the Uruk-hai blew their way in, long years ago – Gimli stepped next to Legolas.

"Just stay calm, lad," the Dwarf whispered to Legolas, fingering the jewel beneath his armoury. "Keep yourself together."

"Do I look like someone falling apart to you, son of Glóin?" Legolas shot in return.

"Honestly, I do not know," the Dwarf replied, looking up at the shocked blue eyes staring at him. "You never know of Elves," he continued with a shrug.

"That is not even relatively funny, Gimli."

"Am I laughing?" the Dwarf asked.

Legolas seemed to think of this for a while, his eyes searching the army before them. "I will make it. For Rafél."

Gimli nodded, squeezed Legolas' hand and then they moved to join the others. Aragorn gave them one, long look, but turned back to the matter at hand, as he decided that Gimli could handle his Elf.

The group halted on the Deeping Wall, spreading out on the passage. Careful eyes watched the dark mass of Eastern Men and their allies, immediately spotting that there was indeed a single Man standing before his forces. The Man stood boldly within an arrow's range, as if waiting for something. It was not hard to guess that his wishes had just been fulfilled when Aragorn and Éomer settled on their places high on the battlement, right before him.

"Lords of the West, finally we meet!" rang out a clear, deep voice. Both armies stood hushed, listening to the conversation, knowing it would condemn all their fates. "Why don't you step forth from behind your deep walls of stones, so we shall have a decent discussion face to face, like Men."

"And what should make us believe that the moment we open our gates, you do not take advantage and attack?" Aragorn returned sceptically.

"The bastard is actually grinning," Elladan muttered.

"Let him – it won't last long after he has knocked his head at these walls for days," Éomer commented.

"Very well, let us speak like this, then!" the enemy commander replied. He did not sound a bit surprised that his request had been denied.

"Wouldn't it be more practical to talk down there?" Pippin asked with a hushed voice. "I mean, if he promised not to attack…"

"This Man is evil," Celeborn answered, to the Hobbit's slight shock. "He would deceive us, and we cannot risk opening the gates…"

"We rode forth to the Black Gates," Merry muttered, agreeing with his cousin's logic.

"Back then we had an army behind us, and enemies on the _other_ side of those gates," Gimli chuckled dryly. "It was quite a different arrangement, my dear Hobbits."

"What are your intentions here?" Éomer shouted out the question most of them wanted very badly answered.

"I want Rohan to surrender – and the leader of Gondor, likewise" the Man answered.

"And who are you to request such a thing to occur?" Aragorn asked rather hotly. Either the Man had more guts than was healthy, less sense than was normal – or then he had something to back up his words.

"I am Tzórag, leader of the Men of East. Long I sought to unite all the tribes and races from their meaningless skirmishes, until I found one thing that brought anger in all our hearts, made the anger boil, and awoke blood-lust in our minds; the West. Rohan and Gondor rule over our people, thinking of us as nothing but cattle Sauron used to operate for his own benefits. But these are free people, and they have now been roused to fight against you, their oppressors…

"I, on the other hand…" The Man who called himself Tzórag fell silent, then spoke again, his voice full of malice: "You perhaps remember the Battle of the Field of Celebrant? Where the mighty armies of Gondor and Rohan annihilated people called the Balchoth from the face of Arda. Fierce warriors they were; ruthless and powerful, until you in your fear destroyed them. _I_ am the last of that kin! I was born with the news of my people's death, and even if slight amount of Easterling blood in me stains my roots, I still bear the strength of my people, the mighty Balchoth! And I shall not rest in peace before I see the downfall of the Western people."

Aragorn shifted slightly, casting a look at Gandalf. The Wizard was frowning intently, his eyes glued at the lone form before the walls. "He speaks the truth," the Istari finally said. Aragorn let out the air he had been holding.

"Whatever you reasons are for being here, and frightening my people – not to speak of threatening me and my fellow leaders – I assure you: the end of the world shall come sooner than I open my gates to you willingly!" Éomer shouted to the Man. His face spoke of hatred, eyes blazing.

Aragorn said nothing, but merely clasped his friend's shoulder in compassion. For now, it would be Rohan that felt the impact of this attack the hardest. If none of them survived – which was not certain yet, at any rate – Gondor would be next. Who would stand to defend that land, he did not dare to guess.

"What is he doing now?" Pippin asked from his place where he had climbed to see over the battlement. "He is walking away."

"Perhaps he has a plan," Elladan suggested, "and as we do not have one…"

"Let's prepare," Thalión ended the debate firmly, his gaze landing on Legolas who suddenly stood very still, his brows knit up in a frown. "What is wrong? Legolas?" the Cousin asked. He hesitantly touched the other's shoulder, as if afraid he would interfere.

Legolas shook his head. "I am not sure. It was… As if for a moment… As if I felt _something_." He did not clarify this, and no one pushed him on the matter.

Most because they did not want to know what that "something" might be.

**

* * *

**

Tzórag walked though his lines, Men pulling back from his path. His jaws were gritted together in frustration. He had to think of something so he would have an advantage over his enemies behind those strong walls. Or else he might find himself standing here when the end of the world came, as King Éomer of Rohan had promised. Helm's Deep was not a citadel you broke into – especially when it was viciously defended. Saruman had used some kind of sorcery to gain access, years ago, but even that gap in the wall was now perfectly sealed…

"My Liege!"

With an annoyed look, Tzórag turned to look at the advancing soldier. "What is it?"

"My Lord," the Man swiftly bowed, "a final group of reinforcements arrived a moment ago. Their leader sent forth a word to you that they might have something in their possession that could bring us victory – or at least improve our chances."

"Truly?" Tzórag asked. "And what might that something be?"

"An Elf." Both the Easterling soldier and Tzórag turned to look to a small party that halted beside them. Three Men, two Uruk-hai following behind, dragging the said creature between them. There was little glory left in the Firstborn that was cast down on his knees to the ground, but one could still outright tell that this was, indeed, an Elf. One of the Men stepped forth, his companions standing still and quiet, as if not knowing what they were supposed to do. The man bowed to Tzórag, and then turned to look at the Elf as he spoke again: "This one might open us a chance to break our enemies' defence. Or at least lessen their will to fight."

As Tzórag did not seem to understand, the small Man continued, his eyes dark and full of knowledge. He clearly knew what he was talking about. "It is well known that King Elessar – formerly called Aragorn – was raised by Elves. He has close tidings to the Firstborns and he respects them greatly. Beyond that, he befriends many of them – Prince of Eryn Lasgalen among them. Which leads us to this creature here. I spent many years in Dale, and we had often dealings with the Woodland Realm and its Elven people. I have learned to know most types of Elves that dwells in those forests, but this mark," he halted, grasping the Elf's hair and drawing his head back to reveal the blood-stained collar of his tunic, "is rarely seen anywhere outside the former Mirkwood. It is a royal mark, either worn by those in high position of the realm, or by the royal family itself. I cannot tell the difference between the two, but this one shall surely be important to the Men inside those walls."

"The scouts have told there are Elves, too!" the Easterling soldier added excitedly from Tzórag's side.

The small Man nodded and allowed the Elf's head to fall again. Tzórag gazed at the defeated, broken creature, and smiled. "Well done. You shall be rewarded for this."

Rafél, on the other hand, did not pay much attention to the discussion around him. There was little he could do to improve his situation as it was, beyond fighting the poison still working in his body. The journey here had not been the most comfortable one – not that he had expected to survive in the first place. Yet here he was, alive, and seemingly he would be used as a weapon against his friends.

The mentioning of Elves drew Rafél from his hazy state and for a slightest moment, he reached out with his spirit. A smile caressed his lips as he drew back swiftly, locking his _fëa_ with a will of iron discipline. His beloved Prince was here. It had taken less than he thought before his soul had instinctively reached for its mate, and he could only hope Legolas had not noticed the short distraction. _He will find out soon enough that I am alive – for now._ The grim thought did not banish his joy, however, and he drew deeper from the conscious world to cherish the feeling. _Bless you, Dínnor. You took him to safety. Now you only have to make sure that he endures through the battle…_

Rafél's thought were interrupted when he was yanked up and dragged forth again. He had been treated worse by Orcs and their kinsmen; at the moment all this was like pampering compared to the pain he had endured in the past. When they halted, Rafél could see the tall, familiar wall rising before them.

"Lords of the West!" Tzórag called out boldly.

Rafél could only calm his racing heart and wish for the best. _They cannot yield. Whatever this Man proposes, they cannot…_

On the walls of Helm's Deep, all eyes turned to the foreign leader. Éomer, who had been busy planning with Aragorn and Gandalf, looked back to his enemies. He could feel the air freezing around him immediately. Elves fell silent.

Aragorn gazed at the immortals in alarm, then back down to the ground, and drew his breath in sharply. "Valar, no…" the King of Men muttered.

"What is it?" Éomer asked, taking another look at the small group before the Deeping Wall. Then he saw it too, a form held between two large Uruks. Grinding his jaws together, Éomer shook his head in dismay.

"I have something that might belong to you," Tzórag went on, probably realising what the sight of this Elf had caused in his enemies. He couldn't help but smile.

"Rafél." Legolas' whisper broke the spell of unnatural silence upon the Elves. As the Prince turned pale as the winter moon and pushed forward, half dozen bows were lifted to the air, arrows notched.

Aragorn caught Legolas in his arms, afraid his friend would actually jump from the wall, and turned to Celeborn. "Master your people. We do not help Rafél in any way if we shoot a few leaves in the forest. This Man wants something: let us hear it out before acting out our anger."

Celeborn nodded and said a few sharp words in Elvish. Haldir's bow lowered immediately, the others following his example with more hesitation. Aragorn smiled his gratitude to the Lórien Lord, then turned back to Tzórag on the ground. His arms around Legolas' body did not loosen their hold, the livid shaking of the others body a simple sign that the Prince was not dealing well with this new situation.

"Indeed, it seems you have captured one of the Elven kin. But what has this to do with us?" Aragorn asked when no one else spoke up. It would do them more harm than good to reveal that Rafél was more than important to them. In time, they might play this game to their advantage…

"I am certain the life of this being in my possession has some value to you. Why don't you let me inside the citadel, and we shall discuss of his fate?" Tzórag suggested.

"And the moment we open our gates, there is nothing to stop you from attacking," Gandalf boomed in return, his eyes blazing. "Do not take us as such fools as your previous opponents must have been! I can see beyond your words to the darkness of your heart." Legolas shot a frightened look at the Wizard, but Gandalf merely shook his head sadly. "We cannot sacrifice all these people, Legolas," he continues with a hushed tone. "And if we were to open the gates, they would still kill Rafél before we reached him."

"Mithrandir speaks true words," Thalión whispered, startling Aragorn with his sudden closeness. "Stay strong. That is what your Guardian taught you."

Tzórag seemed to be just as unhappy about the answer as Legolas – though for entirely different reasons. Rafél himself found the situation almost funny in its irony, and hoped his young beloved would stay reasonable through whatever followed. Or that the others would do so for him…

"Fine," Tzórag hissed. "Bring a cross!" he barked, and several strong Men in the front line immediately moved to obey. A dangerous smile played on the Balchoth's lips as he turned to look at Rafél, his hand idly caressing the pale hair. "Let's see how long your friends wish to allow me to enjoy of your company…" Then he turned away, to summon a servant to bring him something with his own language. "I deem it will not be long, Firstborn," he told Rafél calmly.

"What are they doing?" Gimli asked from his place on Legolas' side, frowning deeply.

"Nothing good," Shannai replied. His eyes were distressed and haunted, like an animal caught in a cage without a chance to escape. "Are we truly going to stand here and wait them to… To…" he ended stammering and shut his mouth when he could not bring out the words.

"Do we have a choice?" Elladan groaned, leaning against the cool stone. His brother kept watching at the Cousins, who had a close eye on Legolas – still safely in Aragorn's arms. Suddenly Elladan stood up straight, his grey eyes intent upon the future battlefield before them. "What _are_ they doing?" he asked, now frowning himself.

The Men were setting up two strong trunks of wood, digging them to the ground and tied them together so they formed a crude form of "x". After the construction was steady enough, Rafél's was brought forth and tied up on to it. Tzórag stepped forward again, a strong bow in his hands. He tested the weapon carefully, walking absently before the bound Elf. "You know, my hand is not all too steady with a bow. I admit I need a lot more practise with it." He glanced up to the wall. "They say Elves can master any bow, and no other race can surpass their skill with a bow. Therefore, I believe you must appreciate my humble attempt to learn more of this fine tool of death."

Legolas made a jolt forward when Tzórag took an arrow from his quiver, settling the shaft slowly against the bow. Lifting the weapon, the Man took a careful aim toward the bound Elf. Eternal brown eyes stared back at the shaft without fear, calmly waiting for the missile to plunge into his heart.

"No, no, let me…" Legolas whispered fervently, no longer struggling against Aragorn's hold. It was as if he was not speaking to him altogether.

Rafél's eyes moved from the arrow to the Elf on the wall. He could feel it, through the pain and mist in his mind; Legolas' _fëa_ desperately struggling to break through to him. _Do not, Las. This one time, stay away. You do not want to be here when…_ But the younger Elf was relentless, and using their already strong bond, Legolas cast Rafél's control ruthlessly aside. _"This is not the end,"_ Rafél told the other with resignation, the idea paining him that Legolas would witness this.

Indeed, it was no end.

A moment later, the arrow was released. The cross shivered from the impact as the shaft drove through Rafél's left arm to the wood. A gasp left the Elf, but other than that, he showed no outward reaction. Tzórag smiled, notching another arrow.

On the Deeping Wall, sharp Elven eyes followed every movement of the Man. Had it been up to them, the eastern Man would have lain dead long before the first arrow hit their companion. Nevertheless, Gandalf had determinedly told them to leave their arms unoccupied: an army without a leader might be unpredictable. With Tzórag, they had some kind of chance to negotiate with their enemies.

One look at Legolas, though, and every consideration of friendly a debate died in the Elven hearts.

When another arrow pierced Rafél's forearm, Legolas flinched as if been hit. The unseeing blue eyes were locked at the bound Elf before them, unblinking and shining. His inner light had turned inwards since Rafél had been brought forth, and every Firstborn knew exactly what he was doing; Legolas was sharing every second of this with his Guardian.

The pattern of arrows was repeated on the other hand, and with a satisfied smile, Tzórag halted enough to allow his men to cut the ropes binding the Elf. When the soldiers stepped back, he lifted the weapon again and tried to decide where to shoot next. On the back of his mind, he wondered how much longer the people on the wall could endure the torment of their friend. _Or then this Elf is not one of them. I might be wasting my time here… Either way, I still prove them that my mercy is limited…_

As Rafél's weight fell on the arrows pinning him to the wood, he couldn't keep a pained groan from escaping. The wood made a small creak, but the arrows held fast. His vision turned blurred and grey as his body tried to adjust to the injuries. All the time, his mind was focused on the familiar voice calling out for him. At the moment, Legolas' tone was getting frantic. _"Be at ease, Little Leaf, I live still…"_ he tried to calm the other, though he knew Legolas could feel his pain as his own. That knowledge made his situation even worse.

_"He is lifting the bow again,"_ Legolas' thoughts hit Rafél like a spring storm in its whole glory. _"Why won' he stop? He is gaining nothing through this!"_

_"He is gaining a mental upper hand of you as we speak,"_ Rafél replied. _"Stay calm and…"_ Another arrow hit him before he could finish, his side flaring up with unbearable pain. _"Draw back, Legolas. Please."_

_"I won't leave you alone,"_ came a desperate answer, and Rafél knew Legolas must have been shaking like in throws of a seizure by now.

_"I know, and I do not want you to, but you_ must _draw back from my mind,"_ Rafél tried to reason. It was as if Legolas had turned into that stubborn Elfling he had been years ago… _"I cannot focus with you disturbing me."_ It was not kindly said, and not entirely true, but he could not think of anything else. He had to drive Legolas back from him somehow.

Another arrow hit him, a little above the previous one. He could feel Legolas smile through their connection, a sad, empty smile. _"That is a lie. I can tell."_

_"I do not want you here. Not now."_

_"Rafél, please, do not push me away. I want to be with you – even in pain."_

In his mind, Rafél smiled, despite the new arrow sinking to his flesh. _"Would I posses the power to block you, I would have already done that. Please, Legolas, allow me to endure this in peace. A warrior's way."_ There was a long silence and Rafél hoped Legolas had finally drawn back. This was the first time Rafél truly cursed the depth of their bond: he could not really tell if Legolas blocked his thoughts and feelings or not. Legolas had become such a constant part of him during the years that he could not tell where he ended and the younger Elf began. Especially since their confrontation in the Shire…

After another long moment passed, Rafél slowly opened his eyes and forced his senses to cooperate. Tzórag was no longer holding his bow, the Man's gaze one of intense fury. Seemingly, the man had decided that he could kill the Elf, and the defenders would not yield.

"Attack!" Tzórag commanded, and his army moved swiftly forth after the long wait. This time, arrows flew from the walls to answer, killing several dozen of warriors before the first made it to the edge of citadel. Watching the event from his place, undisturbed, Rafél decided that his death would have to wait a little longer. Allowing the world slip away, his head leaned back and body succumbed to healing the state it so badly craved for.

**

* * *

**

When the command for attack sounded, the Elves jumped into action with such joy that Aragorn thought the world had turned mad. Elves never took joy in killing – the Orcs and other unnatural beings as an exception, and still it was no true act of delight. Yet the Man himself was ready to commit murder after the long agonising moment they had been forced to endure. He maybe did not know Rafél very well, but knowing the Sindar was dear to Legolas, probably in more ways than one… He shook his head and turned to look at the pale couple of Hobbits. They had not uttered a word for a long time, and he was worried.

Before the fight would get out of control, Aragorn urged Merry and Pippin to return to the caves: he had no time to watch over the small people, and where they stood, lack of height was not an advantage – quite the opposite. With sulking but horrified faces, the Hobbits ran back up to the citadel. The past hour had not done any good to their already strained nerves. The Small Folk had tried to act bravely and carelessly since they had arrived to Helm's Deep – to be merry as they always were – but some were not meant to be warriors… Aragorn regretted the day when he had been part of the decision to take these two out to the War of the Rings.

There was no need to tell the Men of Rohan that they were allowed to attack. Arrows rained down on the advancing enemies, making the still running ones stumble on the fallen. Elven arrows were directed to the most strategic places, or then focused beyond the range of Rohan's Men, trying to take down the approaching Easterling archers.

Even as hooks were thrown against the high walls and ladders lifted, none of this proved a real threat to the defenders. As long as the people in Helm's Deep did not tire of fighting and their losses did not grow greatly, their refuge was almost impossible to be conquered. Like waves splashing to the rocks of the shore, the attackers could try to move the stones, overcome the defences; but like it took a long time for water to shift the rocks, long it would take to defeat the Deep.

At some point of the battle, Legolas began to realise that he was not paying enough attention to his actions. Gimli, who fought by his side, had taken down many advancing enemies that he would have normally taken care of. Irritated, the Elf re-focused on his movements, attempting to keep his mind from sliding. As he turned, sliced open a chest of an enemy and met Gimli's eyes, there was silent appreciation in the brown depths. Seemingly, the Dwarf was also aware of the sudden change.

It was not easy to stay focused, however, his heart constantly with the one he loved. Legolas could not resist glancing at the direction of the wooden cross now and then, every time dreading what he would see. As a short pause from the fight presented itself, the enemies for a while fought off from the passage, Legolas turned his eyes to the direction of Rafél. It seemed the older Elf was left alone, and hope bloomed in his heart. A fraction later, a plan was formed, and without stopping to hesitate or think it over, Legolas dashed off. At the same time, another wave of enemies hit, and he used it on his advantage to slip past his fighting companions. All of them would have tried to stop him, to force him down to the caves with women and children if they knew what he had in mind…

Running up the stairs and past Men towards the Hornburg, Legolas moved with silent grace only Elves possess. No one noticed his passing, probably thinking he was a messenger, or otherwise on an important errand. In general, no Man dared to ask about Firstborns' doings.

Back on the lower battlement, Shannai suddenly halted his shooting and glanced around. Worried eyes immediately sought Gimli, urgent voice alarming all around him. "Gimli! Where is Legolas?"

Gimli looked around confused, muttering something beneath his breath. "He was just here!"

"Well, he isn't anymore," Dínnor groaned. "Did _anyone_ see him leave?" His voice was filled with dread: one could only imagine what Legolas was planning to do… and what he was capable of.

"Easy, cousin," Thalión soothed, his eyes narrowing. "He is nearing the gates, fast, but I think that is not the way he is going to use."

"Use? For what?" Shannai sputtered. "They are trying to break down the gate from the outside as we speak. There are plenty of Men keeping the enemy at bay there. What would Legolas want to do there?"

"To get out," Thalión whispered, then headed off. His Cousins followed swiftly.

"Keep fighting, we shall fetch the missing Prince," Asthaldo patted Gimli's shoulder as he passed.

The Dwarf moved to follow anyway, but Aragorn stopped him. "I need you here, my friend. They shall find Legolas much faster on their own, rather than with us to slow them down. And I am positive they will not let Legolas out of their sight for a long time."

"They had better not…" Gimli growled deep from his chest, then heaved his axe towards the nearing enemy with a mighty battle cry, the blade sinking fully to the other's chest.

Aragorn shook his head as Gimli moved forth like an enraged wild boar and then put his own sword on to a move again. Perhaps fighting for his own life would shortly make him forget that Legolas was in danger… His eyes moved to the place in the middle of the swirling mass of enemies, finding the tortured form almost too easily. _What fools have we been while believing Legolas could deal with this. He is an_ Elf_! He is bound to act, to do_ something_, to save his…_ Aragorn frowned, for a moment stopping to think what exactly Rafél was to Legolas. Because of late, they had seemed to be much more than a Guardian and his protégé…

**

* * *

**

Legolas slipped to the short passageway that led to a hidden door on the wall. He had learned of this "exit" from Gimli, on one of his visits to Aglarond. The door led to a narrow ledge, which ran against the stone wall, ending a few yards before it would meet the causeway. The distance between the two was too long for most to jump, yet Legolas knew he would make it easily.

Yet it was not his intention to attack the causeway that was at the moment filled with Easterlings trying to bring down the gates of the Helm's Deep.

Closing the door behind him, listening intently as he could not see behind the corner and tell if any enemy was paying attention, Legolas glanced down. The rocky earth met his eyes several feet below. It was a deadly distance – to a mortal. Bracing his body, Legolas jumped from the ledge. The impact with the hard ground was painful, but Legolas refrained from making a sound, the pain vanishing as soon as it had appeared.

He moved forward in the shadows of the wall and stones, edging closer to the causeway. When he could see the Men before and above him, he halted. Had anyone looked to Legolas' direction, his presence might have been passed; his unmoving form attracted no attention to itself.

A moment later, an Easterling tumbled down from the causeway, falling to his death. Legolas waited a moment longer, his eyes moving between the dead and his living companions. No one paid attention to the ground, all intent on breaking in to the citadel. With all the grace he could muster, Legolas crept forward to the dead, all the time keeping an eye on the causeway. He stripped the corpse of its cloak and some of its weapons, then drew behind the curve of the wall to dress.

He knew he would never reach Rafél in his current outfit. Dressed up to the cloak of the Easterling, and bearing some of his weapons, it might do the trick. It was still risky, but he was ready to gamble. The life of his heart's chosen one was at stake.

Preparing himself for the dash of his life, Legolas' entire body tensed in concentration and alertness. He was just about to spring up when someone grasped his shoulder and he jerked around, one of his white knives immediately in his hand. His wrist was caught before he could sink his blade anywhere, dun eyes meeting his. "Dínnor, for Valar's sake! Do not _ever_ scare me so!" Legolas exclaimed as loud as he dared. With the sounds of battle around them, he might have shouted his words and no one would have paid attention, but he was not about to risk it.

"Be at peace, little one," Asthaldo chuckled, walking close the edge of the wall to join them. He, too, crouched to the ground. "I am sure that he would have deserved your attack…" He did not finish, as they all knew what he was talking about.

"I never claimed to be perfect," Dínnor muttered, letting go of Legolas' wrist – but not his shoulder. "You forgot to mention you were about to leave us all the sudden." His tone was not as light as his words, and his eyes darkened in barely suppressed anger.

Legolas' eyes shifted to Thalión who appeared to stand behind them. The silver-haired Elf did not seem to care if he was spotted or not – even if they were not on the line of sight to the causeway just then. His hands were folded across his chest, his eyes locking with Legolas' blue ones. A silent discussion took place between them.

_"Are you sure?"_ Thalión voice asked in Legolas' mind.

Legolas smiled, grimly. _"I have no other choice."_

The Cousin nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. _"You know this attempt might lead to the death of you both. And he certainly won't approve any of this."_

_"He is not here to look over me. If he was, I would not have to do this."_ Legolas shifted a little, sliding the knife back to its sheath. _"You do not have to take his place. He will either return to his place beside me – or then it shall ever remain empty."_ That one phrase could be taken in many ways, but Legolas knew that Thalión understood.

"Very well," Thalión said aloud. "Prepare yourselves. We have to wait for a few more corpses, and disguise ourselves as Legolas here," he spoke to his Cousins, even if his eyes still remained on the Sindarin Prince.

"You do not mean –" Dínnor began.

"You can return to the citadel just as well," Thalión hissed. "Legolas has made his decision, and I shall do my part to help him."

"You do not owe me anything," Legolas said softly. "Just go back, all of you."

"And miss the real fun?" Asthaldo gasped in mock horror. "No way. After all, it was _us_ who taught you all you know about the _real_ fun," he winked, then moved forth to look beyond curve of the wall. "We do not have to wait so long, Thalión; it seems that our dear enemies are in such a hurry to break in that there is some serious crush on the causeway… Or was."

When the others joined him near the bend, they could all see several dead Men lying on the ground. Dínnor smiled. "Well then, let's get dressed for the party."

"You are not seriously thinking about coming along?" Legolas asked for the last time.

"Four is better than one," Asthaldo shrugged. "Better odds."

"Four is also easier to notice than one," Legolas countered.

"And how exactly you thought to get him out of there?" Asthaldo replied. "There is a lot of commotion about, in the case you haven't noticed."

"I will find a way," the Prince muttered.

"I am sure. And we will help you," Thalión said with a soothing voice, his hand settling tenderly on the younger Elf's shoulder. "Let's get going."

When they all had cloaks hiding their features and some new weaponry was attached to their gear, they moved towards the causeway. They kept in the shadow of the wall as long as possible, and then moved out to the open, trying to appear normal, like messengers or just soldiers on some business of their own. In battle, no one normally stopped to ask about the others' doings, but they were not about to risk it. Moving along in the mass of enemies, they kept an eye on all and everything around them, trying to sense if they were spotted.

It seemed almost too easy at first, as they made their way to the area before Deeping Wall. Legolas' eyes kept dragging towards the place where he could see the wooden cross stand, his heartbeat quickening. He wanted to reach out and reassure his guardian, but knew it would be too early. Soon, he would have the other safely on his side again, and nothing in the world would drive them apart… Not even death.

An arrow shot over them, almost hitting Dínnor on the shoulder. "Bloody archers," he chuckled darkly, recognising the Lórien design on the shaft. "They should take more care where they shoot those things…" Then he fell silent again, and they crept forward.

Suddenly, a great Easterling collided against Asthaldo. The Elf let out a small gasp, and then looked up at the tall Man. The hood covering his features had slipped back, revealing the golden hair and fair face. The Man gaped at him in shock, and Asthaldo gave the giant his most charming grin. Then, quicker than any eye could catch, he moved his hand, grasped on of his own short swords, and beheaded the Easterling. The cut was so clean that no blood spattered on him when the body went down before him.

Men around them turned to look, and with a groan of frustration, Dínnor threw back his own hood. "Well now, this suddenly got far more interesting." Before the Men could attack, the two Cousins were already on the move, fighting back anyone on their reach, dead falling to their feet.

Thalión nudged Legolas as a sign, and they moved forward. Now they all ran. Most of their enemies were still trying to get closer to the wall, but many turned to see what the commotion was about. Those further from the Deep had a perfect idea what was happening, and masses pushed closer to the Elves from both sides.

Dínnor and Asthaldo fought side by side, experience making them move like one; the other stroke then dodged, directing his next blow backwards when the other reached over the first. Asthaldo's shorter weapons matched Dínnor's sword's length perfectly, and they did not stumble once, nor stopped to hesitate or talk. They _knew_ the other's next move, planning their next along it, trusting their years together to guide them.

Thalión stayed next to Legolas, their battle as fluid and perfect as the other couple's. They perhaps did not share the same experience together, but Legolas had been schooled by these three for the most of his life. Thalión and his Prince had fought back to back enough to know that they did not need to worry of their partner getting on the way.

**

* * *

**

On the Deeping Wall, the fight was just as ferocious. More and more enemies managed to climb up to the passage, and swordfights erupted here and there. News told that the gate was still standing, but not for long. Éomer had returned to Hornburg to oversee the struggle on the gates, leaving Aragorn to the lead of the Wall.

Haldir halted his own fight for a moment, eyeing his companions and checking no one was hurt. Then he notched one more arrow to his bow and let is loose. It was then that his eyes caught the other battle – in the middle of the enemy lines. "Well now, it seems that the Cousins have a funny way to see for their Prince's safety…" he murmured to himself, shooting down an Uruk-hai advancing on the four fighting Elves. "Glorfindel!" he called out, catching the other Elf's attention. He pointed at the field before them, knowing that explained the events just fine.

"They were making pretty good process before the fight broke out," Elladan joined their company, eyeing the Cousins and Legolas in the midst of enemies. "Now they have stopped completely, defending themselves rather than attacking."

"Well, they are quite outnumbered," Haldir sighed.

"What is going –" Gandalf joined them, alarmed by the sudden lack of action on their part, then realised the matter at hand. "Aah. It seems we have a bit of a problem here."

"If you wish to put it that way, Mithrandir," Elladan grimaced, turning to kill an advancing enemy. His brother immediately appeared to his sight, taking care of the fight while Elladan turned back to the conversation. "We have to go to help them. They will not survive for much longer."

"Any ideas?" Glorfindel asked.

Elladan lifted his sword suggestively.

"They need more than arrows from our side," Haldir joined the Peredhil's opinion.

"Then it is decided," Glorfindel said, even if he did not sound overly happy about all this. "Haldir, take your kinsmen – if you think your Lord will approve, that is. Elladan, seek your brother. You are going out to play."

"It is hardly a game," Haldir said with a smile on his own as he ran off, fighting down enemies as he made his way to his Lórien warriors.

Gandalf smiled secretly, shaking his head, and then lifted Glamdring as a salute and joined the war raging around them. "There are certain things that Elrond will never forgive you. Sending his sons to a certain death is surely among them," a voice said behind Glorfindel, and the Elven Lord turned to find Erestor standing there, stained in blood.

Glorfindel smiled, nodding. "That is why I expect them to return alive."

A moment later, five Lórien Elves sprang past them, joining the Twins on their way. They did not waste their time trying to reach the gates, however, but merely attacked one of the ladders leaning against the wall, and slid down along it. When they finally reached the ground, aided by archers on the battlement, they made their way straight to the four fighting Elves. It was not an easy way to proceed, but their boldness, fury, and skill helped a lot.

Glorfindel watched them go for a while longer, wishing them luck, and returned to his own fight. It was not utterly safe to stand in the middle of the brawl of this size, lost in thought, but he had seen worse places in his life.

"Is there a reason why my brothers are fighting in the midst of enemies, rather than on the wall where they are _supposed_ to be?"

Glorfindel grimaced as he bumped against Aragorn, his eyes carefully meeting the burning ones of the Man. "You know I couldn't have let you go there," he answered calmly.

"Legolas is out there," Aragorn grounded.

"And so should we!" Gimli shouted from his place some dozen feet away.

"Just keep fighting, stunted one, and leave it for the Elves to look after their own," Shannai chided, sending another arrow flying.

"Why don't you get a hold of your sword instead; I have heard you are a rather miserable as an archer. You might hit someone of our own," Gimli retorted. Shannai cast him a murderous look, making the Dwarf back off with a deep laugh.

"Just focus on your own battle, my friends," Gandalf's voice boomed over the noise. "Aragorn, Gimli." The way the two names were addressed told the stubborn warriors they had better to keep themselves in the Wizard's line of sight – and on the Deeping Wall. Neither of them had a true desire to tests Gandalf's wrath.

"I am going to get them for this," Aragorn muttered as he plunged his sword to the chest of an Orc that had managed to climb over the wall. "Each and every one of them. And they had better be alive after this!" If Aragorn hated something more than worrying for ones he cared deeply about, it was being left behind. And right now, he felt very much like an outsider…

**

* * *

**

Legolas spun around, killed a Man, then rolled down to the ground to avoid Thalión's powerful strike. He rose again to deliver his own assault to an Orc that had crept behind the Cousin's back. His body was shaking slightly, of excitement and weariness. It was not like he had seen Men shake in battle, but somehow he could connect his own state with that of exhausted Men. Yet Legolas was nowhere near a need to stop. He could go on for hours still, before he would have to look at his state critically and find a way to be able to rest.

Collecting his thoughts again, knowing he would endanger both himself and his companions by straying too far from battle, Legolas swung around to deliver a lethal blow to an enemy he knew was there. When he thrust his knife through the Easterling's chest, another blade sank through from the opposite side. Lifting his gaze, Legolas met the grey gaze of one of the Peredhil twins.

"Elladan," Legolas nodded to the other.

"How can you _always_ tell us apart so easily?" Elladan pouted and yanked his sword free, allowing the dead Man fall to the ground between them.

"Practise," Legolas smirked, then dashed forward. Elladan bent in half, allowing Legolas to roll over his back to meet another opponent. "Besides, Elrohir never does that with me," Legolas chided as he turned to wink at Elladan.

"True enough," Elrohir joined them, eyeing Legolas for a moment. "You know, you can drop it. We all know you are not that cheerful."

Legolas' eyes lost their mirth, but the smile remained. "Perhaps so, but at least allow me to enjoy the pleasure of faking it."

"Youths!" Dínnor roared, throwing a spear snatched form someone through the form of an Uruk-hai that had been creeping closer to the three. "Would you mind to pay attention?" the eldest Cousin commented as he passed by, Asthaldo on his heels. "We are at war here."

"Aye," Elladan laughed, and moved to follow the two.

The Elves drew together, saluting each other and then took their places to fight their way forward again. Absorbing each other's fighting styles and preferences, they switched places and rotated once in a while, so one would not tire more than another.

"I might say you are doing pretty well," Khai noted as she took her place beside Legolas, defending the back of their companions, who in turn attacked the enemies with determined accuracy.

"And you believe in what you see?" Legolas replied darkly. He refused to look at his friend.

"I do, when I do not dare to look closer," Khai noted. "I am not alone with that opinion. Promise me that once this fight is over, you and Rafél shall talk over it all. And then perhaps you might talk to us. We need to know – something."

Legolas nodded, his eyes focused on the fight. He knew that one wrong thought could lead to a fatal mistake, but all he could think of was the Elf hanging on that wooden cross. As much as it pained him, Rafél had been right: he should have pushed back from their bond in time. Now the agonising moments kept repeating themselves in his mind, filling him with anger barely kept in control. _Losing self-control can be just as bad as giving up altogether_, Legolas knew, and forced his mind to concentrate only to the blades in his hands, the enemy, and how to kill his next opponent…

"Legolas," drifted Thalión's voice from the head of the group, and Haldir moved to protect Legolas' blind side as the Elf moved to look at the Cousin. The younger Sindar's heart jumped when he realised they were just beside the cross. All caution fled from Legolas' mind as he rushed past his friends, killed four Men standing on his path and stopped before the sight he both loved and dreaded.

Sheathing his twin-blades, Legolas carefully lifted his hand to his guardian's face. "Rafél…" he whispered with a small, broken voice. The smell of blood and pain assaulted his senses, making his fury flare yet again.

The brown eyes opened slowly, gazing at the sight before them in disbelief. A small, sad smile tugged Rafél's bloodied lips. "What took you so long?" he asked with a hushed voice when the rest of the Elves reached them.

"You know, there was this little hindrance of several thousand Easterlings…" Asthaldo explained.

Rafél smiled at the joke. Asthaldo – and probably Shannai – were the only ones able to joke in a situation like this, and still be believable. Legolas' hand pressed lightly against his chest, above his heart, as if trying to keep it beating. Rafél tried to remain still, knowing every movement would cause more pain and tear the wounds even more. Yet, he did not hesitate when Legolas suddenly leaned upwards and sealed their lips together. The kiss was one of despair and fear, and the older Elf would have wanted it to be otherwise, but for a moment, he would have to give in for Legolas' needs.

"I thought I lost you," Legolas whispered when he drew back. When he looked up at Rafél, there were tears in the blue eyes.

"Did you ever look into your heart to know for sure?" Rafél asked softly. When Legolas shook his head, a sad smile passed his features. "Then you knew all along that I lived."

"I feared for the answer," Legolas gasped, pushing away the wetness on his cheeks.

"As much as I would love to watch the two of you until the world ends," Dínnor interrupted, "we have to get Rafél free and ourselves back to the citadel."

"Defend us; I shall help him free," Thalión stepped forth from his place in the battle, Dínnor immediately moving to replace him. Thalión was an archer, and knew best how to deal with these injuries.

They were hard pressed from all sides, but while this close to their goal the Elves had decided not to lose. Legolas watched the fight go on, but was relieved that he was not ordered to join to the battle. He turned back to the two Elves beside him, moving his hands to support Rafél's body when Thalión grasped the first arrow.

"I am afraid this will hurt," Thalión muttered as he prepared to snap the shaft with a knife in his hand, and the arrow in the other.

"Just get me rid of them," Rafél hissed, and made no further sound, as the arrow was cut in half between his body and the cross. This was not maybe the best way to do this, but there was no time for more careful measures. Thalión worked all the arrows like this, yanking them free as they were cut loose from the wood, then helped Legolas to lower Rafél to the ground.

Rafél groaned when his feet touched the solid earth, leaning heavily against his companions.

"Take your time," Thalión encouraged. "We have very little time, and I do not think that binding your wounds would do much good." Elven healing would deal with the bleeding until they got back to the Deep.

Legolas pressed his face to the other's neck, closing his eyes. He allowed his _fëa_ to touch Rafél's again, feeling the hidden joy of the other's soul. With a smile, he allowed his power to drift forth, giving strength to Rafél as he had once given him. For a while, the older Elf tried to deny his attempts, but in the end surrendered to his fate and welcomed Legolas' advances.

"Alright, little one, I am ready," Rafél whispered after a moment, pulling himself to his full height. He gently pushed Legolas' _fëa_ back, his hand tracing the Prince's face slowly. Thalión stepped back, and for a moment, none of them remembered they were in the middle of a fight.

"Time to get going, then," Legolas smiled, his hand closing around the hilt of his blade.

"Wait," Rafél said suddenly, his hand stilling Legolas'. Seeing the confusion in the other's eyes, he leaned down to kiss the lips he had yearned for. Legolas shifted closer to him, the trembling hands clutching onto him as hard as they dared. Rafél knew they both would be smeared with his blood, but he did not care the slightest when the pure delight rushed through him. There had been a time, not long ago, when he had feared he would never see Legolas again – not before they would meet in the Halls of Mandos. As his fears vanished before the burning love, Legolas kissed him back with equal favour, allowing their spirits to join for a moment.

The sounds of battle grew more hectic, and reluctantly, Rafél drew back. Legolas' hand shifted beneath his, making him fold his fingers around the hilt of one white knife. "You will need it," Legolas told his guardian matter-of-factly. Rafél nodded and unsheathed the familiar weapon.

"If we are ready to go…" Elrohir coughed, looking at them with a slight blush on his blood-stained face.

Legolas nodded, his free hand taking Rafél's. "One more time, Edhil," he raised his voice, to encourage the others. Various battle-cries followed, making the enemies step back in alarm.

But soon it was clear that it was not the Elves they were stepping back from.

An eerie silence fell upon one half of the battlefield, and the dark ones cowered back as if in fear. Behind the enemies, something was approaching, and the Elves felt their hearts grow cold. Like a freezing breeze of winter, it pained their souls.

"What is it?" Elladan asked.

Everyone but Legolas shook their heads. He stood with his eyes wide, watching the enemies part to allow a lone rider come through upon a great black horse. It was not a Dark Rider, though all clad in black. Rafél's arms tightened around his body, and he could feel blood seeping through where his clothes were cut or broken.

The rider stopped before the sunned Elves, regarding them coolly. His features were completely hidden to the shadows of his hood, but all of them could tell he was smiling. Orcs and Uruks came nearer, whereas the Men drew back in terror.

Rafél shifted Legolas behind his body, blocking direct view to the rider.

"That will not help you this time, Guardian," the smooth voice of the dark one informed him.

With a fluid movement of his hand, the enemy stirred the air around him. Something like shadows erupted out of nowhere, hitting the standing Elves like a giant wave of the sea. They all fell to the ground, unmoving and their eyes closed, only Legolas and Rafél remaining where they stood.

Neither of them demanded to know what had happened.

Rafél had seen dark magic used before, in it rawest form, but had thought all who possessed the skill to wield Morgoth's power were long gone. He drew a dragged breath, feeling the rest of his barriers go down. He was too weak to fight this one.

The rider guided his steed forward, his gaze fixed on the two Elves. Legolas stepped from behind Rafél even if the older Elf tried to stop him. Rafél cursed beneath his breath, feeling the dark presence of the other eat away the remains of his strength. He fell to his knees on the ground, watching in growing horror as the dark one leaned to place his pale fingers on Legolas' forehead.

Legolas flinched away, but not enough to dislocate the other's touch. "Perfect. Such fear," the dark one praised. Legolas' eyes darkened in surreal anger, and the enemy allowed a soft chuckle pass his lips. "So defiant… And so _ours_," he finished, his fingers twitching. Legolas' eyes grew wide, and he collapsed to the ground, eyes growing entirely black before they slowly slid close.

An Orc rushed forward, stripping the unconscious Elf of his weapons and then gently lifted the limp form to his arms, presenting Legolas like a sacrificial to the dark one. The rider took the unresponsive Elf onto his horse, covering the lean form with his cloak. The hooded face turned to look at Rafél, the voice silky and pure as he spoke again. "You have done well, Guardian. After all the…unfortunate event you have come across, believe me, you have done your very best. But today, it was not enough."

With that, the horse turned and he rode back the way they had come. In the distance, shrill cries of the Nine Riders echoed. The army moved to fill the space immediately, but none dared to approach the area where the Elves lay. Shadows lingered there, and Rafél knew the immense feel of darkness kept even the Orc away. It did not make him feel any better, though, and with a cry of despair, he drove his bloody fist to the ground and succumbed to the darkness, too weary to resist.

Before the army, near the Deeping Wall, Tzórag's eyes narrowed as he watched the dark rider do his business and leave. This had been unexpected, but then again, so were always the affairs of this one. Deciding his work here was done – he would not waste his time here in Rohan when seemingly the true events were now taking place elsewhere. He could deal with the King of men later. With a loud cry on his own language, Tzórag commanded his army to pull back.

He was very interested to hear what she could tell him of all this…

_to be continued…_


	41. Chapter 39: Aftermath

**Author's Notes:** It has been a horribly long time since I committed myself long enough to write a chapter to this story. But as you see, here it stands: a new chapter for "The Last Journey"! I hope that some people are still following this journey, and I will try to update a little more frequently in the future!

In the previous chapter, we had this battle in Helm's Deep. And to everyone's great shock (or not…) Legolas was taken, his companions left unconscious to the battlefield. It is time to go on from there.

What happened, and who was that dark rider who managed to frighten the Orcs as well?  
Where is Legolas?  
Will Rafél survive?  
And moreover: what will Thaíly say of all this?  
Welcome aboard, and enjoy…

* * *

**Chapter 39: Aftermath**

* * *

"I found them!"

A clear voice rang out in the silence that hovered over the land like an unnatural, invisible veil. The ground was covered with bodies, black and red blood spilled around them. The earth was trampled by thousands of feet, a cruel reminder of an army that was now vanishing on the horizon.

"Did anyone see what happened here?" The Man's voice was full of frustration and hardly suppressed anger, his clear eyes blazing when he looked at the group of fallen Elves, then at the direction of the distancing army. Aragorn was hardly in a good mood, even if they had victory in their hands.

"Personally, I am glad they are gone," Éomer muttered beside his friend, absently rubbing blood from his face.

"They are all alive," Shannai piped up again, crouching beside Rafél's unconscious form. "Only Rafél is seriously hurt, and the others merely have minor wounds here and there." His voice was shaking, his mind no doubt retelling the horrific moments when he had to watch his kinsman being tortured. "But it does not explain why they are unconscious – or why the Orcs left them alone." Confused green eyes directed themselves onto an Istari that stepped to his side.

Gandalf's face was worn, and the frown upon his face bode well to no one. He was preparing to deliver bad news. "Evil," he finally stated, as if the mere word explained what had happened here. "Rafél needs a healer now. Let us take them all back to the Deep, and hope they will survive this encounter without further injuries." Many mouths opened to question his words further, but he silenced them all with a stern look and a wave of his staff.

Gimli, however, was beyond caring. "Legolas is not here."

Aragorn cursed, kicking a dead Orc near his feet, sending its helmet rolling. "Valar! If he is not here, then where is he?" He looked at the Elves, then at the Wizard – and went completely still. "You are not going to tell me they took him…" he whispered. Gandalf held his gaze, then sadly shook his head.

"We do not know. It seems that none were looking at this part of the battlefield when this all happened. Not any of the Elves, anyway. We must wait for these warriors to wake and tell us what passed here."

Aragorn nodded, his shoulders slumping. The victory had seemed so easy, and he began to feel as if they were now paying the price of it.

"We will find him," Gimli stated, shifting his axe in his hands, his eyes remaining on the fresh tracks of the enemy army.

"Of course we will," Gandalf confirmed, then nudged Shannai with the end of his staff. "Come now, let us help our comrades. Rafél, for one, will appreciate it when we set out to find our missing Elf. Knowing him, he will not miss a heartbeat when he realises what has happened, whether or not he is half dead and in no condition to travel…"

**

* * *

**

"My apologies," Aragorn said patiently when Rafél hissed softly and moved away enough to make the Man stop again. The Elf had woken an hour ago, and since then Aragorn had furiously worked on his injuries. The rest of the Elves were awake, too, yet most of them sat hunched and held their heads like Men tended to after a long night of drinking. It was no ale, though, that caused them pain at the moment.

"Could someone just hit me unconscious again, and wake me when the world is back in order," Asthaldo begged, his face pale when he looked at the other occupants of the room.

"You unconscious will not bring Legolas back," Dínnor snapped, his voice irritated. He had said not a word of compliment to anyone since he had awoken and realised the Prince was gone. Thalión just sat silent, his eyes resting on his hands, or upon Rafél, who in turn did not meet anyone's gaze.

"Calm down, the whole lot of you," Celeborn sighed, his hand resting on Haldir's shoulder. "We need to form an idea of what happened out there, and then plan how exactly we are going to find Legolas."

"And protect our lands from the possibility of another attack," Éomer added.

"Both are equally important," Faramir said from his place near the door. "Yet our hearts, at the moment, ache for news about Legolas' fate." He received an approving look from his King.

"I did not think anything else, yet my people – as well as yours – might be in great danger," Éomer returned. He sounded just as tired as everyone else, and the long battle and worry were catching up with him.

"Why did they take him in the first place? I mean, he is just an Elf… And evil ones… Well, they usually kill Elves," Pippin tried to reason.

"Leave the thinking for those who can do it properly," Merry whispered from his seat next to his cousin; he was on a bad mood as well. Being left out of the battle, and then hear one of their friends had been taken… It did not sit well with the Hobbit.

"It is a good logic, though," Aragorn noted, bandaging one more wound that he had just sewed together. Once he got the loose ends tied up, he moved to another place, releasing a weary sigh. Rafél looked briefly back at him, giving him a brave smile. The Man answered to it and set back to work, knowing his part was easy: Rafél was the one who had to bear the pain. Rafél had also refused to take anything that would help for the pain – and in the same time wear him down even more. The Guardian was very silent, which was also understandable, as he was probably trying to get his own mind and thoughts into some proper order. With his protégé gone, taken by the Enemy nonetheless, it was not a task Aragorn envied; he felt worried enough about his friend's fate. He could only try and imagine how Rafél felt.

"Whatever the reason is, we have to find Legolas as quickly as possible. And we do not manage that by sitting here," Dínnor went on again, his ire burning bright. If someone had not witnessed his ill mood before, they had a perfect opportunity for it now.

"You actually think you could remain on top of a horse in this condition, and not fall onto your head before you reach the gates of the Deep?" Ithika offered back, his sister merely shaking her head where she sat beside him.

"Now, now," Gandalf spoke, as if chastising children who acted silly. "If no one has something intelligent to say, let us all sit in silence. We win nothing while bickering with each other. The Enemy is up to something, and Legolas is gone. Both matters worry me greatly. We do not know who or what leads our enemies, and what they are up to. Especially when it comes to Legolas…" He fell silent again, staring out of the single window of the room, his eyes distant. After a while he began pacing, muttering to himself, his words muffled by his beard so no one could catch the actual words.

"We must follow him," Rafél said at length.

"Follow whom?" Thalión lifted his head, looking at the elder Elf with weary eyes.

"Legolas," Rafél said softly, as if the name would shatter and vanish if he said it too loud.

"How? We do not know who took him, or why, or where they are taking him," Shannai snorted, kicking a leg of a stool that stood before him.

Asthaldo, who happened to sit atop of it, looked at him warningly. "There are harder things to track than an army of thousands," the Cousin noted.

"But what about the Nazgûl!" Shannai exclaimed. "We all saw how they hunted Legolas at the Shire. What if they took him? You mentioned a dark rider approaching you, before he did… something," he ended a bit hesitantly.

"The rider was not a Wraith," Asthaldo shook his head. "Yet I have no idea what he was. He had more power than any of the Nazgûl can muster." His eyes rested on Rafél for a while, then slid to the floor again. "But if he rides _with_ the Nazgûl…"

"We can keep guessing until our tongues are worn out and minds numb," Gimli spoke up, for the first time since he had sworn to find Legolas out on the battlefield. "I say Rafél is more than right: we have to follow Legolas, and rescue him."

"How do we know that Legolas is kept with the main force of the army?" Faramir asked, looking thoughtful. "If the one who took him takes a different route, we end up following the wrong trail."

"We can always split up," Pippin suggested.

"Not if we see only one trail," Asthaldo groaned, bowing his head again, grimacing in pain. It was clear none of the Elves that had been with Legolas were ready to travel, much less track down their friend, and fight him free.

"Can you find Legolas?" Aragorn asked at length, his hands working as tenderly as possible on an arrow-wound on Rafél's arm. Rafél said nothing, nor did he move. Still he looked liked one who knew more than he revealed, and the question was answered.

"I can aid him, if luck is with us," Gimli said tentatively, slowly dragging out a jewel that hung around his neck, hidden beneath his clothes. He fingered the bird gently, but the usually bright glow in the green stone remained weak. A worried frown appeared on the Dwarf's face, and he looked up at the Guardian. "Can you… reach him? Is he alright?"

Rafél merely closed his eyes and shook his head gently. His fingers were tightly laced together, as if holding onto something no one else could see.

Gandalf halted his pacing then, looking at the old Sindar, and smiled soothingly. "Have faith, Guardian. He is stronger than most of your kin. You taught him like that." Rafél nodded, yet none in the room seemed overly convinced by the Istari's words. Perhaps it was so because the Wizard himself was not comforted by the statement, and yet again he set to pace the room, strange words falling from his lips.

Just then Glorfindel and Erestor entered the room, bringing more bandages, herbs, and clear water they had set out to fetch earlier. "There is something happening out on the gates," Glorfindel noted, setting his own load of items to a table next to Aragorn. His clear eyes met Éomer's, who looked back in surprise.

"What kind of something?" the King of Mark asked.

"I have no idea, but perhaps we shall know soon enough."

**

* * *

**

The sight of Helm's Deep was quite mournful. Dead covered the ground, corpses of Eastern Men and Orcs. On the walls of the fortress that lay ahead, Men of Rohan could be seen moving, probably tending their own dead. Not that Thaíly cared much. He just urged Morisûl forward without attempt to try and avoid the bodies lying on his path.

Few Men checking the bodies lifted their heads as he passed, their eyes following him as he made his way toward the causeway and the main gate of the Deep. He half expected them to shout after him, but all he met was dead silence. "Some are so easily frightened by battle – and its aftermath," the darkly clad half-vampire muttered. The horse pricked his ears and neighed approvingly.

The hooves of the horse created a loud sound as they rode up the causeway. The gates were slightly ajar, to allow people pass to and fro in their tasks. The guards, who had been engaged into a discussion with a local woman, turned in alarm when Thaíly neared them. Long spears shifted, eyes below iron helmets watching warily. Yet none of them dared to speak – or approach – this stranger, and with a satisfied smile, Thaíly directed his steed inside.

"Who are you, to enter Helm's Deep?" bellowed one of the guards, yet his voice shook more with every word he uttered. "State your business!"

"My business is none of your business, Man of Rohan," Thaíly stated coolly, gifting the guard with a dark glance.

The Man blinked, then nodded slightly. He did not move any closer to the rider than he already was. Rather, he backed off when Morisûl passed him and his companions. Several pairs of eyes followed Thaíly as he rode up the walkway. "Someone go and get the King," the Man finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What should we tell him?" his companion asked.

"Just go already!" the first Man barked, giving his fellow guard a mighty shove into the direction of Hornburg.

**

* * *

**

Barely a moment had passed after Glorfindel's entrance when a gasping Man knocked and entered the room. "My King," he bowed at Éomer, "a strange…. stranger has entered the Deep. He has not by far presented his reason of being here. What should be done with him?" The Man's eyes seemed to beg that his lord would not tell them to arrest this arrival.

Yet before Éomer managed to open his mouth, Rafél let out an annoyed groan and lifted himself from the chair he had sat on. Aragorn tried to hold him down, but the Elf was determined to have his way. "I am well, Aragorn. You have tended me well, and I shall rest after this… nuisance has been taken care of," he said with a scowl.

"You know who it is?" Éomer asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rafél nodded, looking greatly displeased. Yet something akin to surrender and remorse held his eyes captive. "I know. I can feel – and recognise – his presence."

Shannai shifted on his place, looking at the Guardian. They traded glances, no spoken words seemingly needed between them. "He will not be happy," the younger Elf finally stated.

Rafél laughed dryly, then took a cloak that Aragorn's offered to him. "I can only imagine how _happy_ he is about all this," the old Sindar noted, a slight shudder passing through his abused body. His face was pale, the on-going healing process taking the last of his strength, but anyone could see the clear message on his face: he would not rest before this stranger had been taken care of.

Without further ceremonies, Rafél set out, followed by the other occupants of the room. The guard hurried to lead them, though everyone could find the way outside on their own. When they arrived at the doors leading outside, Éomer told the guard to return to his post with a brief smile. The Man saluted and made a retreat hasty enough for it to be almost an insult.

"Now that lad was in a hurry," Gimli muttered, then turned to look at Rafél's direction. The Elf walked down the stairs that led to the end of the walkway, where a dark horse and even darker rider waited. All of the Elves went silent, their eyes locked to the events before them. Slowly, more than one blade was drawn, demonstrating that something unexpected – and threatening – was going on. The Men looked at their companions in confusion, then back at the stranger who had just dismounted his horse.

"Thaíly…" Shannai began very haltingly, taking a few steps closer to the two still warriors who stood opposite to one another.

A sound of sword sliding out of its scabbard followed, and faster then the Elves could react, Thaíly had his sword pointed right at Rafél's heart. The Guardian stood still, his eyes locked to the half-vampire. His hands remained on his sides, and he seemed to be waiting for something.

Thaíly's eyes flickered to the nearing people. The Elves were all ready to attack, but something seemed to hold them back. The Men did not dare to move either, as their immortal companions did not seem willing to interfere. Slowly, the cool eyes returned to regard Rafél, and the blade pressed hard enough to draw blood. "I think I made quite clear, early on, what would happen if you failed, _Guardian_," he practically spat out the last word. "Now where is the Prince, the one you were supposed to look after, hmm?" Another sharp push from the blade, digging it deeper to the skin. "I should kill you for your failure."

Rafél said nothing, but his eyes slowly slid down to the ground. The other Elves were shifting uneasily around them, clearly witnessing something they did not like, but still could not stop it from happening, either.

Thaíly stared at the defeated Elf for a moment, then pulled his blade back with an annoyed growl. "To your fortune, Legolas happens to love you. And everyone knows what happens to Elves whose other half is taken from them." He cleaned his blade and put it back to its scabbard, then took his time to have a long look at the other warrior. A long sigh escaped his lips, and he shook his head. "It seems things did not go well with you."

At that, Rafél lifted his face again, a mocking smile on his lips. "I wonder how you can tell."

A sniff from Thaíly followed, and a small sneer. "You smell of blood like a bleeding pig. Get cleaned, get some rest, and we ride out. We have an Elf that we have to find."

"Thanks to me, I suppose."

Thaíly grew silent at that. "Perhaps," he said, with a tone that left a lot to guess.

**

* * *

**

Evening was fast approaching when a small force rode out from the Helm's Deep. Éomer rode in the head of the group, clearly unhappy to leave this soon, yet he had been the one organising their departure as well. He had left a few of his trusted Men to take care of Helm's Deep – with the help of the Dwarves. They would ride swiftly as possible to Edoras, from where their journey would continue to Gondor; that was the direction pointed both by Rafél and Thaíly.

They were hoping to travel a few hours before camping for the night, even if the Elves had said they would guide the group through the night if need be. Yet when most of the Elves were still recovering from their battle, and the darkness they had faced, it had been a silent agreement that tonight they would camp and rest.

Aragorn allowed his gaze to slide to an Elf that rode quite near him. He was not happy to see Rafél up and about this soon, but there was nothing he could do about it. Firstly, he could not be held back either when he knew Legolas' life was most likely in a mortal danger. Secondly, there was no way to actually hold Rafél back once he decided to do something; Aragorn, or even Legolas, could possibly be held back in such a situation as this, but none in this group had the true authority over Rafél. Gandalf, perhaps, but the Wizard had not tried his luck.

"He will make it," Shannai noted from his other side, and Aragorn turned to look at the all too familiar sight: an Elf, with a Dwarf sitting behind him on a horse. For some reason, Fundal and Adír had insisted on coming along onto this journey. "Rafél is stronger than he seems," the Mirkwood Elf added.

"I know," Aragorn sighed. "But the healer in me does not wish to see that. Nor the friend…" he added silently.

"But the friend in you knows it would be cruel not to let him come, with Legolas in danger," Thalión noted from behind them. "His heart is torn right now, by guilt, self-hatred, and worry. And Valar know he has already been trough enough torment for the next lifetime…"

"May this be the last hurt he has to endure," Aragorn made his wish, looking at the darkening sky above them. "And I wholeheartedly wish that for the all of us."

_to be continued… _

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Aah, here we are, in the end. I hope this chapter was worthy of your while – it has been a long time since I worked on this story, so I think the atmosphere in it might be a bit different…

I make no promises, either, about the date of the next chapter's release! But I will try and deliver it faster than it took to bring you this one.

Then, some synopsis of the upcoming chapter, _Revelations_: We will join Legolas, and as the title of the chapter says, it is time to learn some long awaited answers. It will also start a new, darker era in this story, so be prepared.

Until then, I hope you all will be well!


	42. Chapter 40: Revelations

**Author's note:** Once again the gap between this chapter and the last stretched beyond my greatest fears; it has been a long time since I contributed to this story. From now on, though, I try to keep that from happening.

Welcome aboard – the old and the new. I hope you will enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 40: Revelations**

* * *

It was dark.

Legolas knew that even before he opened his eyes. It was a sensation running up and down his spine, crawling on the edge of his mind. His back ached and stung, and subtly as possible he shifted in an attempt to make it stop. It did not, and with a small sigh he opened his eyes.

Yes, it was dark. He could sense the cold coming from the stone walls and all around him. Before he might have panicked, but after spending time with Gimli in the Dwarf's home, he had gotten more used to the close proximity of rock and stone.

Shedding away the feeling of distress on the back of his mind, he took a look around, waiting for his eyes to fully adjust to the lack of light. He did not recognize the place, though that did not surprise him. He stayed still for a moment, allowing his mind to snap back into place. Without much of an effort he could recall the last moments before Helm's Deep…

A door opened on a far side of the room, light streaming in. Legolas sat up, making a swift sweep over the room with his eyes but could not find anything worth of being used as a weapon. Moving his attention back to the arrival, he tried not to shrink back before him.

The dark creature looked at him. Even from the shadows of the enemy's hood, Legolas could feel their eyes meeting. He was not sure who held the gaze, but eventually his patience came to an end: "Who are you?" he asked, voice as clear as he had hoped it would be. The natural fear towards a dark creature such as this one was yet to stir in his mind. Legolas did not lament the delay. "Why am I here?" He was also tempted to ask _what_ this creature before him was, but knew the other would probably dismiss his other questions as well, so he did not want to press his luck. Knowing that this one was a servant of the dark was all the information he needed – even if he had shown in the past that he had some kind of personal interest in Legolas. That was unnerving.

Legolas felt the other's smile, like cold daggers of ice. Yet there was something stirring in the back of the Sindar's mind that made him feel unsettled. As if he was supposed to… recognise this. "Your questions will be answered in time. Not at this hour, but soon."

The Elf blinked, growing wary. The other had given him an answer of sorts, so what was this game they were playing? He would have felt much more comfortable if he knew the rules.

The dark one turned his head, and a second later the door opened again. Legolas watched, even if his _fëa_ shuddered and demanded him to pull back. He knew he had nowhere to go, and so he tried to valiantly appear unaffected and wait out whatever he would be forced to face.

A woman walked into the room. Her eyes were so dark that it shook Legolas a little, and he could feel the keen interest and power in them. She was fair in a way, with her long raven hair and deeply tanned skin, yet the darkness that came off her in waves made her appear to the Elf just as any rotten, tarnished piece of dark creation. "You are Legolas, son of Thranduil king of Mirkwood, I assume?" she stated. The way she used Eryn Lasgalen's old name rang with an ill promise in Legolas' mind.

"Yes," he answered haltingly. He assumed titles did not need to be stated here: she knew who he was.

"I am Annatar, daughter of Sauron," she said in a way of introduction, though it seemed she was well aware of how her words were going to be received.

Legolas could not hide his surprise, doubt, and shock. He recognised her name, yes: Sauron had used it when he had first lured himself into the presence of the Elves of Eregion during the Second Age. That the woman used the name was either a display of bad taste, or it was a sign.

"You might not believe me, but soon enough, everyone will," the one calling herself Annatar claimed.

In loss of words, Legolas glances at the dark creature standing beside the woman. He was not outright seeking support, but he could admit he was confused. Not that he expected to gain help from either of them. He decided, though, that she was the one in power. "Why am I here?" he demanded to know yet again.

"You will know, due time," Annatar responded cryptically, and with a one final look at him, she left the room with her dark companion. The look the male gave Legolas before he turned to leave was not lost to him, though, and once the door was shut again, the Elf spend the next few minutes wondering how all the things they had learned connected with what he had just heard.

**

* * *

**

Outside, the two creatures of the Dark halted. The Sun was well on its way across the sky, the shadows lengthening on the ground. "What use have we for him?" Annatar questioned her companion. "He is but an Elf."

"He befriends our greatest enemies," the other explained, his voice smooth as usual; convincing. "If you wish to gather your father's power, and restore it, you must find a way to keep anyone else from touching it."

She nodded, agreeing. Her eyes were sharp when she gazed at the hooded male. "Then what do you suggest?"

"Bind Sauron's power to the Elf. That way your father is safer than ever, and he can also feed onto the life force of an Eldar."

She snorted. "He is not that strong; only a descendant of those once mighty."

"True. He has potential, though. He has grown up surrounded by shadows and evil. The power in Dol Guldur was once mighty and fierce, and he has become resilient. He will last the weight of Sauron's power. And most importantly, our enemies are known for their loyalty. They will do anything – risk anything – to save one of their own. If we bind the Elf's life to your father's, they have no way of stopping you from bringing him back on this Earth."

Annatar considered this, and slowly a smile appeared to her features. It was nothing short of cold winter night in its lack of compassion. "The forces of Light have wrought their own tool of doom. Well thought. I think my father will be very pleased with this," she decided, and then pulled her hood over her head, making her way down the hill. In the shadows of trees and stones, Orcs and Uruks were waiting for the Sun to vanish from the sky. When she passed them, they bowed their heads, muttering silent words of loyalty and obedience.

Up on the hill, the lonely figure drew his cloak more tightly around himself. The smile on his lips was unmistakable. "Yes, I am sure Sauron will be very pleased indeed…" he decided.

**

* * *

**

When the Sun finally made way for the night, Legolas could feel it. He waited in his room of stone, alone, feeling restless. He had sought every corner and inch of the walls, but the door remained the only way out, and it was too heavily built and locked. Legolas had sat down then, waiting, hours before the sunset.

Now that the night had come, he could hear the increasing activity outside. It was not long before the same cloaked dark one came in. He was alone, but Legolas knew better than to challenge him, especially when he could sense the waiting forces outside. He would not make it. They would either capture him and hurt him in the process, or they would kill him. He decided that waiting was the best plan of action, and so he allowed his hands to be bound without an act of defiance.

"You have grown smart," the dark one commented to him silently before leading him out.

Legolas wondered about the other's words but followed. Once outside and the layers of stone no longer confining his hearing and eyes, he could hear the wind and sense the trees. In the distance he could hear the roar of water, and he thought he recognized the place: they were near Rauros.

Frowning in confusion, he wondered how much time had passed since he had lost consciousness at Helm's Deep. What had become of Rafél and others? He tried not to dwell on the worst of options, knowing he had to keep his heart light; otherwise the game would be over on his part before it had even started.

A scream travelled across the darkness, and despite knowing there was need to, Legolas looked up, witnessing the Nine speeding across the dark night. Other dark servants made way to the Riders who halted over in a far end of a small clearing Legolas was now standing on with his companion. Across the distance, Legolas could feel Angmar's attention moving to him, the cold hatred and burning scrutiny.

Legolas shudder, his chest aching where the Nazgûl had stabbed him what seemed like not too long ago.

"Come," his dark captor said instead, leading him on by his arm. Legolas did not think the other could understand his distress: he had seen this one ride as one of the Dark Riders. There was no mistake in who was in control of whom there. It made him wonder, yet again, who was this man and what was his place in all this?

He was led over to a horse. They looked at each other, and Legolas felt sorry for this poor animal that had to endure so much darkness in its life. He had no time to console it, though, because he was urged on horseback without further negotiations. He steadied himself, arms still bound behind his back. The animal beneath him seemed obedient and cooperative, and he was quite certain his ride would be pleasant enough.

His cloaked companion got atop of his own horse, guiding it next to Legolas'. They were going to ride together by the look of it. Around them, the army began to move on, soldiers finding their place in line. The dark one guided his horse to a side, Legolas' mount following without needing to be told. It seemed it knew what was expected of it. The Nazgûl circled around them for a while, making Legolas' skin crawl as they passed him almost close enough to touch, but then they moved on, ahead of the army, their shrill cries filling the night.

Legolas was still wondering why he was here, but one thing was certain: he knew where they were going. Only one thing was ahead of them if they kept their course, and that was Mordor.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I'm feeling plenty nervous about this new chapter. I have re-read most of the old ones, but still I feel like I'm starting – or continuing, rather – on something I cannot exactly recall. I hope you like it, though!

In the next chapter, we shall stay with Legolas and see where his journey takes him…


	43. Chapter 41: Many Shades of Evil

**Chapter 41: Many Shades of Evil**

* * *

The shadows kept stretching uncomfortably close to Legolas. What unsettled him more, though, was that he was not as bothered by them as he should have been. It was as if he had gotten so used to their presence that he no longer got alarmed by their proximity.

Two nights had passed since they had left Anduin behind. The Sun was about to start its journey through the sky; he could sense it, but the dark army kept on going. He knew why, though: they had crossed over to Mordor, and it seemed that the Sun had no power here.

Legolas' eyes kept following Annatar, his mind still undecided on if he believed her claimed heritage or not. She had power, there was no denying that. A daughter of Sauron, though… He could not help but wonder who her mother must be, then.

He hoped for Gandalf's counsel on this problem. The Maiar would no doubt have something to say.

To be honest, Legolas would have liked to see any one of his friends. Most of all, though, he found himself craving for Rafél's presence; ever since he had deemed it was safe, he had tried to reach out for his Guardian. He had failed in each attempt, but refused to think of the worst. Rafél was safe and alive somewhere, no doubt worried of Legolas' fate to no end. That did not humour him like it usually would have, since Legolas knew his situation was grave indeed. Every time he reached out and tried to imagine there was still hope left for him, the shadows came crushing down on him, leaving him shuddering and cold to the bone.

His spirit was low, and with each step that his horse took deeper into Mordor, it felt as if one more thread of hope was taken away from him.

The day went on. Black clouds covered the sky, unmoved by the wind. Occasionally a small ray of light would fight its way through them, and Legolas turned his face towards them each time, yet even in his small delight he could not fail to notice how cold the touch of the Sun was. And each time he turned his face back down, dispirited, he could feel the gaze of the Dark one riding beside him. He was quite certain the other did not smile at his failures to lift his mood, but the eyes within the shadows of his hood kept a rapt attention on him. Legolas hoped he would grow tired of looking at him eventually.

They stopped in the afternoon. Orcs were whining, as usual, but that was what they always did, whatever the situation. Legolas ignored them and the rest of the army to the best of his ability, trying to find a place to sit in peace. Everywhere around them spread a rocky, desolate terrain; nothing lived there. The few birds he had seen floating in the air above them never lingered. There was no grass or plants; not even a dead tree to give him hope that perhaps once something had lived here.

The Elf found himself a rock to sit on, his senses alert as he once again went through his situation. He was bound, vigilantly watched, and far from a friendly face. Yes, he might manage to slip away, but the ever watchful Dark Riders and the hooded man on his side made his hopes of escape fade into nothing.

"Do not brood so darkly," the hooded figure came closer. He offered Legolas a water skin, but the Elf merely turned his head to the side, declining. The other took a sip from it before putting it aside. The dark eyes scanned the land around them and Legolas tried to keep his own from following. "Such wasteland…" the dark one said at length, and Legolas knew that only his ears caught the words.

The Elf frowned, looking around. Certainly he would have preferred any other place to this, but… "It could still be revived," he said tentatively. He buried the tips of his boots into the loose soil. Nothing but more dead earth came into his view. Years of darkness and evil had done their task, but Legolas knew that given the right amount of time… "Maybe one day," he finished.

"Perhaps," the Dark man said, though it did not sound as if he was agreeing – not that it was a surprise.

They remained silent after that.

**

* * *

**

Legolas had never had the pleasure of seeing the great fortress of Barad-dûr up close, and truth to be told, he would have preferred it to stay that way.

The army had taken a winding road to their destination, but once they had passed recently-built black gates and crossed open, rocky plateau, it was clear where they were headed. Legolas could still recall the moment when the terrible fortress of the Dark Lord collapsed to the ground. It had been a pleasing sight in all its destruction. Now, though, he could see thousands of Dark servants buzzing and working around something that still looked like a piece of a disfigured structure, but which he could identify.

They were about to re-build Barad-dûr.

As they crossed the distance to the currently disorderly construction of rock and steel, Legolas could feel the dread growing in the pit of his stomach. His heart clenched in agony, but he fought to not let go of the hope. Not yet.

The ground beneath the hooves of their horses was rough, and every now and then they passed a decaying body of a Man or an Orc – or some other heinous beast Legolas could not recognise. He tried to avoid looking at the display of darkness, death, and gore that surrounded him. The sky rumbled above them, though he could not smell rain or a storm; just smoke and something he had from his very youth thought of as 'evil'.

Bit by bit the army he had been travelling with broke apart, moving to various directions. For a moment Legolas was hopeful that it would be the case with him as well, but apparently that was not about to happen. The dark hooded man beside him guided his own horse alongside Legolas', following the Nazgûl and Annatar towards the fortress. The dark servants bowed before the woman, stepping aside to make way. Legolas expected taunts to be thrown into his direction, but none came. It left him stunned, but he did not provoke the situation.

They only dismounted at the root of the rise created by black stone. It looked like some of Sauron's old fortress had survived; its very foundations deep in the earth. It still beheld the stink of old evil and Legolas felt his stomach twisting at the nearness of it. He withstood it, though; the longer he stood there in the shadow of a tower that was still far from finished, the more at ease he felt. That made him suspicious – and afraid.

His unease was noticed by his hooded escort, who merely responded with an icy, secretive smile; thin lips could faintly be seen from the shadow of his hood. Legolas blinked at that, then turned his gaze aside. The other was no doubt enjoying his discomfort. Maybe he even had something to do with the _lack_ of discomfort, which unnerved the Sindar more than feeling ill would have. He did not dismiss the absurd possibility, since Legolas knew that the strange man had been interfering with his life lately – not to mention trying to get him burned alive, or forcing him to look into the _palantír_. In his heart, Legolas knew this was the one responsible for all that.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he almost failed to notice that Annatar had moved on. The Nine had already disappeared somewhere – not that he mourned their lack of presence. Legolas hoped they were parting ways now, but as if reading his mind, the hooded man took his arm into a solid hold and began to guide him after the female. Their destination was soon clear to the Elf, and with all his might he tried to pull back.

The grip on his bound arms tightened, but an Elf, however restrained, is always a considerable adversary. Legolas had been a warrior most his life, raised to believe that giving up was the last of all failures; it should never come first. Digging his feet to the ground like a stubborn mule, body tense and rigid, he made it clear he would not enter the darkness of the Dark Lord's lair, however broken and in ruins it was after His downfall.

"There is no use to be stubborn," the hooded man said into his ear. He was still managing to keep his cool by the sound of it, and his hold on Legolas was strong. "Either you follow on your free will –"

"Never!" Legolas stated clearly.

"Or I will make you," the other finished, his voice still cool and almost passive. He did not sound overly concerned, as if he was convinced he would have his way.

Legolas thought of some kind of reply, but decided he had said all he needed to. Now all he had to do was get free… The Dark one met his movement when Legolas tried to push to the side, moving along rather than trying to pull back. One arm reached across his chest, yanking him more onto the side with strength that almost made Legolas lose his footing. His bound hands were no help, so he tried moving lower. For a moment he thought he had the other caught by surprise since he could only feel the one hand on his chest, but then the other appeared onto his face, palm pressing over his eyes.

"Shh," the Dark one crooned, as if to calm him.

Legolas pulled, struggled, and pushed, but each passing second with his vision cut off he could feel his body succumbing to the other's will. It was as if the darkness crawled a little closer, the light shut away from him. What annoyed and terrified him even more was that he had no control over it! And in the end Legolas just did not care. He felt numb. He did not know why, but it no longer mattered, and the warm, tired feeling in his body took the fight out of him.

"Good boy," the hooded man said in the end, sounding pleased. "Now come. There is someone waiting to meet you, and it is important you are aware of it."

Legolas blinked and frowned while the other pulled him upright and guided him into the dark building of collapsed stone before them. They headed down, a broken staircase taking them deeper into the darkness, leading down into the depths of the earth. There were only few torches on the walls, placed far away from each other. Had Legolas not been led firmly down the steps, he was certain he would have stumbled: his inner light was weak and his sight offered him no help in this darkness that seemed unnatural. He could feel something crawling up and down his back, like invisible touch of spidery fingers.

They came into a wide hall supported by huge pillars made of stone. Most of the huge space seemed like it had been carved right out of the mountain, which probably had ensured its survival through the destruction of the tower above. Somehow, it reminded Legolas of Moria – which at the moment was not a welcoming thought. He knew nothing was there, but it did not take the sensation away.

Annatar was waiting for them, her form illuminated by several torches set onto the surrounding pillars. It seemed the light did not quite reach her, but rather left a layer of darkness between them, as if too afraid to touch her. Or then it was her inner darkness, pushing the dancing light away. Legolas tried to avoid looking directly at her, convinced he would do better without.

"It is time," Annatar said. "I hope you understand, Elf, that this is a great honour for you to fulfil."

Legolas tried to push his mind to work. He still felt a little frozen inside, and he had no idea what the woman was talking about. He was not certain if he wanted to know, either. Over his shoulder, Annatar's and the hooded man's eyes met. He did not have to turn to look; he could feel their minds clashing, planning, and agreeing; right there but still out of his reach. Legolas did not dare to try and spy their plans, either, because this deep into Mordor he could not afford to fall into the dark.

"Long I have worked to gather my father's strength," Annatar went on, turning away from them and walking deeper into the darkness. Legolas could hear something being moved. "You and your allies made it difficult for me to succeed, but in the end I managed to great extent."

Legolas was not certain if he understood what she meant, but kept silent. He was quite certain it all would be explained to him in time – which seemed to arrive sooner rather than later.

In the darkness she turned, and something glimmered darkly in her hands – though Legolas was quite certain dark things did not glimmer in any way. Once she came closer, he could make out a delicate chain, attached to something that looked like a small round stone. Frowning, the Elf waited, hearing her clothes rustle softly as she moved, her feet creating a shuffle against the floor. It was as if Annatar's step was heavy all of a sudden

The necklace caught Legolas' attention once it came closer to him. He had a natural disdain towards anything dark creatures had ever created, but in the case of this very piece of jewellery, he knew it was not just that. The closer to him it came, the clearer was the intense, dark malice within it. Inside the stone he could see swirling, like dark smoke. It looked restless to him; captured and desiring release.

Annatar walked to him, pointedly choosing a direct path. There was no mistake what she was about to do, and Legolas jolted back, not wanting to be any closer to that object of Dark than he already was. The hooded man's hands tightened around his arms, preventing his attempted escape.

"Upon your shoulders you shall carry my father's might and power. Do not disappoint us, Elf. Be as strong and fierce as the family whose name you bear, and you will… survive." The way she said it, with the ever-present dark flame in her eyes, Annatar did not manage to convince Legolas of the fact that he would outlive this ordeal.

With the last of his strength, Legolas moved back, fighting against the hold of his single captor, cursing his own weakness and the hidden strength of the other. It was not the first time that his mind fluttered over the nervous question: who and what was the man holding him, who so easily stripped away his defences and managed to bring him under his control? Legolas was a Prince, grown to resist darkness and evil, but this stranger did not care about that.

"Do not fear, little one," the dark man said, one of his hands fisting Legolas' hair and keeping his head still.

For a moment Legolas' thoughts faltered. _Why am I afraid?_ Calmness washed through him, colliding with the dread and growing fear he had previously experienced. The two totally different emotions left him confused, which gave Annatar enough time to slip the chain around his neck. A second later Legolas felt something burn his skin, but it was not what left him paralyzed; the very moment the necklace touched his skin and the stone settled upon his chest, a radiating burn spread all over him. He could not breathe, or think, and his heart seemed ready to burst from the amount of blood that surged through it. His _fëa_ twisted and shook in agony. As a familiar undertone, the old scars made by the Balrog ached on his back.

Legolas smelled blood when Annatar drew back from him, his eyes finding her bleeding hand. The skin of her palm looked burned for an instant before it began to heal with rapid speed. A whiff of his own blood reached Legolas' nose right after, and he could feel it running down the back of his neck, but he knew it would heal – even if not as fast as the dark woman's was. The metal of the chain around his neck was hot against his skin, and he could only guess that she had somehow sealed the two ends together.

Taking a heaving breath, she took a step away from him, almost stumbling. A moment passed, and the burn in Legolas' body began to fade slightly, leaving him hopeful that maybe whatever she had done was over.

A small breath later it all began anew, though this time the pain and darkness burrowed deeper. And as surely as he had felt the Dark Lord's presence the day in front of the Black Gates, as surely he felt him now, though so much closer and _deeper_ that it rendered him numb. Legolas blinked, gasped, and the hooded man let him go as he sank to his knees on the stone floor. Shaking his head, the Elf gasped in pain, refusing to cry out in pain in front of his enemies but being very close to doing so.

Broken passages of some ancient language filled his head, and he was certain that if he tried to look, he would see the burning eye looming in front of him. The stone felt cold and heavy against the bottom of his throat, and desperately Legolas tried to hold onto the memory of the sweet burn the bird jewel he and Gimli carried used to cause there. He had no recollection of what had become of that necklace, but he was convinced his enemies could answer that…

The pressure in his head increased. Legolas knew he was going to break, no matter what; the searing pain was everywhere, and the will of the other was too strong. As the final act of desperation, Legolas tried to shove aside the being he knew was far mightier than he or his family could ever be. His body shook as if he was physically fighting the entity invading his mind.

_"It is pointless to resist, Elf,"_ the voice hissed at him, silent yet booming. It reminded him of the voices of the Nazgûl.

"I will not…" Legolas replied between clenched teeth. He opened his eyes to get rid of the darkness that was filling everything around him; perhaps regaining his sight would make him remember there was something outside the vicious struggle in his mind and body.

The torches on the walls were almost extinguished. They flared and moved as if there was a wind blowing, even if the air was stiflingly still. Annatar must have moved further from him after his struggle began as she was now leaning against one of the stone pillars for support. Her eyes remained on Legolas, though the Elf was not certain if they actually saw anything.

Once their eyes met, Legolas felt the final plunge against his mind. Vaguely he could feel a hand on the back of his head, as if supporting him. The touch of fingers seeped through his skull into his mind, a cool soothing breeze where everything was overcome by burning pain. Legolas could not focus on either of them, especially when he again heard the dark, deep voice chanting words he could not and had no desire to understand. A presence pressed against and into his own; he could feel Sauron as if they were one.

"It is done. My father's power is now bound to you, Firstborn," Annatar said in a hushed, strained voice.

Legolas blinked, his vision darkening with each moment, sending him deeper into the abyss that was now his mind. His _fëa_ drew back in defeat, whimpering in pain, and for a moment Legolas felt like drowning into the darkness before his consciousness failed.

**

* * *

**

Legolas woke up expecting pain and flames, but it was surprisingly calm. He blinked, and though he felt the stone heavy against the nape of his neck, it seemed the former Dark Lord was done torturing him for a moment. _'Former' is no longer the word to describe him_, Legolas mused, and immediately felt a brush against his thoughts. Oh yes, Sauron was awake and listening.

Carefully Legolas tested his body, curling his fingers and toes. He still had power over them, which was a relief, of course. Perhaps Sauron was not that strong after all…

A steady, cool breeze washed over him, inside and out, and in amazement he realized that for a moment at least, he was alone again. He could tell the difference, though he was not sure how exactly. It just felt like a weight had been removed from his thoughts and his mind wandered free.

"He is an intruder in your body," came a voice from beside him, and Legolas moved his head, amazed that he had not noticed the man in the room. He no longer wore the hood, and even in the dimness of the room, Legolas could see the fair features, keen eyes, and… The dark man smiled. "Do not look so shocked, little Prince."

Legolas sat up a little, completely ignoring his surroundings as he for the first time took in the looks of his long-time enemy. "Who are you?" he asked at length.

"As I have told you, that really does not matter," the stranger went on.

Legolas frowned, though he tried not to make his confusion obvious.

The other actually laughed, his tone not as light as any of Legolas' kinsmen's, but there was an eerie, familiar sound into it he had not marked before. And now that he had seen the dark one's face… There was no question about it: a creature so fair could only be an Elf. It answered many of Legolas' questions as well; the other was strong and fast. Since he was an Eldar, it finally made sense.

"What are you?" the Sindar amended his question.

Again, he was rewarded with a smile. "So many questions. And as I have told you before: in due time you will know all. But as for now, I will tell you what you need to know to survive the upcoming events," the Dark one stated, then narrowed his dark eyes. They were such a rich shade of brown that Legolas had always mistaken them for black. Even now they seemed to darken, and Legolas could feel the other's power shift against him. A cool touch entered his mind, pushing Sauron's presence further away. This amazed Legolas, but for now he held onto his reactions, unwilling to give away anything. "There," the other stated, apparently satisfied with his actions. Light from a candle placed onto the far side of the room caught the icy pale hair of the other; it was flawless and beautiful like any Elf's Legolas had met in his life, but on this particular Elf it seemed to shrink in comparison to his inner darkness.

"You wish to know my name," the other went on, leaning back in his chair. "You were eager to know that when you were younger, but I think you realized back then that having a name for someone means nothing compared to real knowledge."

"I have met you before," Legolas repeated the obvious, trying to remember. There was something on the back of his mind, but he did not dare to try and dig it up, or else he might attract Sauron's attention, and since the other had pushed the Dark Lord aside, he had no desire to test that hold. After all, it could be that what he thought was there was not what he was looking for…

"You do not remember yet, but you will. Your mind is a labyrinth of information, full of hidden doors you were not meant to find too early."

"But now is the hour for that?" the Sindar questioned.

"Almost," the Dark Elf replied. "Our first priority is Annatar's plan, though."

"Ours?" Legolas had to ask. "I cannot believe our goals or intentions are in any way alike."

"You would be surprised," the Dark one noted. "Besides, I am the only thing between you and the Dark Lord taking completely over your body and soul." That rendered Legolas silent. Maybe the other was lying – perhaps not. So, instead of arguing, he sat silent on the crudely made bed. The other Elf – even if Legolas had trouble calling him that – nodded, accepting his silence as an encouragement to go on. "Annatar has worked years to gather his father's strength together. The destruction of the Ring did great damage to Sauron, but being of same blood, she managed in her task."

"So you really think she is Sauron's heir?" Legolas voiced his suspicion.

"I know as much," the other went on, dismissing him. "Her own power, though not as fierce as her sire's, was enough to raise the Dark army and piece together Sauron's strength. That stone around your neck is, ironically, a piece of a Palantír; the one that resided in Barad-dûr and broke apart with it. She has used much of her own strength to keep Sauron's existence together, and that is why she was so exhausted after placing it all upon you. And even now, she is still tied to it."

Legolas wondered if he was supposed to understand something in the other's words. It sounded as if the other Elf was almost pleased with the situation. It made no sense. "Why do you tell me this?"

Again, there was a shift in his mind, and the Dark Elf leaned closer. "Because it is your mission to destroy them both. Your friends cannot help you now; Sauron is bound to you and your life. But you…" He left it hanging as he leaned back.

The Sindar blinked, honestly taken aback. "You were planning Sauron's demise all along?" And for a briefest moment he had a blurry flash of himself and this same stranger standing in the forest, the shadow of Dol Guldur resting heavily upon them. He could not recall words, but he remembered the other's obvious disdain towards the one who lingered in the dark fortress… Looking at the other, he tried to piece this information together with everything else. "I have met you before. I know I have. I just cannot remember it."

Legolas halted for a moment to think about it. The other had pushed Sauron aside inside him without effort. He was a servant of Dark who had power, and still Legolas felt like he knew him. And now that the other had admitted it, he was positive they had indeed crossed paths in the past as well. Perhaps the other had some sort of hold over his mind and had made him forget. That conclusion unsettled him, but with his current situation, it was not much to be said.

"Twice I have shown myself to you in the past. Twice I have made you forget about it. Do not feel defeated by that, though: you have never been prepared to face me, then or now."

Legolas was not certain if he was supposed to be insulted by that. He was a warrior born and bred, and did not like to hear he was not able to take care of himself, or protect his own life and mind. "And why go through all this trouble over the years?" he asked defensively. He needed something to grasp and gain ground with, because he felt as though he was losing. He had no knowledge of the things taking place around him, and for all he knew, his life was now bound to their greatest enemy's – if he could believe this Dark Elf. At this point, it seemed the other was telling him nothing but the truth, which in itself was unnerving.

"It is not the time for you to know, yet," the other noted, standing up.

Legolas knew he was about to leave and he knew he had to act quickly if he wanted to gain even a small piece of information from the other. "Who are you? Whom do you serve?" He guessed the other would not answer, but to his surprise the other halted in the middle of drawing the hood onto his head and turned back.

"They call me Daroth, and I serve the Dark Lord."

Legolas frowned. It made no sense. "But you just said –"

"I serve _the_ Dark Lord. The one Manwë named the Black Foe of the World." And with that the other turned and left, the sound of a bolt being slid into place on the other side of the door echoing in the silence. The candle flared on the opposite wall, shaken by the draught. Legolas merely stared into the shadows, mind temporarily frozen. Then, while he tried to wrap his head around it and failed, he could feel pain increasing in his head.

Slowly and steadily Sauron awoke, furious for being cast aside in such a manner. Legolas emptied his thoughts, knowing he could not stop the other from taking over, but he could still harbour this new information so deep within himself that the Dark Lord could not find it.

For now, he was not certain if he was supposed to be more frightened by the fact that evil was within him, or by Daroth's words and confession of whom he supposedly served. After all, the Dark Elf had not lied to him before as far as he could tell.

_to be continued…_


	44. Chapter 42: Plans of Desperation

**Chapter 42: Plans of Desperation**

* * *

**Edoras, Rohan**

The dawn was pushing itself across the night sky. It was a life-long battle between two forces of equal strength; without night, there could be no day, and without day, who could tell what the night was?

Pippin watched the horizon bathe itself in soft colours, slowly gaining more and more ground from the lingering darkness. It was a soothing view. Something certain. Even though a day may be dark, it could never be _that_ dark.

The wind picked up across the plains, harsh and cold. It made the Hobbit shudder, even though he was clad in his warm Elven cloak. He shifted a little, bare feet against hard, raw stone beneath him, older than him without doubt.

"Are you cold, Master Hobbit?" a smooth voice asked him, and Pippin looked up, smiling a little at the tall Elf who had appeared beside him. Even his sharp Hobbit ears had not picked up the arrival's light step.

"I am afraid I am not quite as accustomed to this kind of weather as these hard Men who live their whole lives here," Pippin admitted.

Rafél made a sound of approval, but it seemed the wind did not matter to him. Clad only in his tunic and leggings, the Guardian looked as comfortable as he had inside, in front of the crackling fire. The memory of the heat emanating from the burning wood made Pippin shudder even more, but he stood beside his silent companion, trying to draw from the noble air of the Eldar. Rafél was quite different from Legolas.

"Do you like to watch the Sun rise?" Rafél asked him.

"Back in the Shire, I was usually still buried beneath my blankets at such an hour as this, so I missed most of the sunrises," Pippin confessed with a chuckle that the Elf joined with him. It seemed the other was not disapproving of the Hobbit's apparent laziness, though. "I think I have learned to enjoy such a simple beauty as the one of the sunrise, afterwards," Pippin added. "It is such an important thing. Without it, darkness would be everywhere all the time, and that would be depressing." He nodded to himself, imaging such a dark world, and shuddered some more.

"I remember seeing the Sun rise for the very first time. It was magnificent. Powerful." Rafél closed his eyes, as if to recall the exact moment. "I was also disappointed, because in the daytime, you cannot see the beautiful stars that my people had learned to love."

"Were you afraid of the Sun?" Pippin asked curiously. "Or did someone tell you it would suddenly appear on the sky?"

Rafél opened his eyes and directed his brown, intense gaze at the Hobbit. "It was the creation of the Valar. They gave us the Sun, and the Moon. If there was fear, it was soon washed away by amazement and gratitude."

"But you still like the night better?" Pippin insisted.

"Sometimes," Rafél admitted. "But recently, the nights have been even darker, and they have lost the beauty they once held. Now, dark things crawl in the shadows, and when the Sun goes down, it happens that many evil dares to come out of their hiding places. It takes away most of our joy and freedom."

"The swifter we battle them, the quicker we can return you back to dancing naked in the moonlight," another voice joined them, the rough tone laced with sarcasm. Pippin glanced at the dark appearance of the man – or whatever he was – whom he knew by the name of Thaíly. He also knew he and Rafél had a very bizarre relationship.

Rafél gave Thaíly a dark glance, but then moved his eyes to Pippin and slightly inclined with his head towards the door behind them. Pippin took the hint, bowed at the old Sindar, and then headed for the door, feeling like he could use a long, warm bath and some breakfast. Just before he slipped inside, he looked back, the Elf and the man silhouetted against the rising Sun. Light and dark, and the bloody red dawn.

"Close the door," urged a soft voice, and Pippin did as he was told, meeting Aragorn's eyes in the dimness of the hallway.

"What do you think they are going to talk about?"

The Man seemed to think about it for a moment, looking at the door as if he could see through it. "About Legolas, I would assume. About our plans."

"Well, that is good," Pippin said, daring to smile briefly. "When do you think we will find him? Is he going to be alright?"

Aragorn's face darkened, and Pippin regretted that he had even asked. Whatever the answer was, it was clear none of them would like it.

Glancing towards the door between them and the two people outside, Pippin let his shoulders drop a little in defeat. A hand settled on his right one, and he looked up at Aragorn. The other offered him a smile. "Let us not abandon our faith. Legolas is strong, and they took him alive. There may be a purpose they have for him, and that is something we must hope for. We will find him, alive and well." There was conviction in Aragorn's voice, and Pippin nodded.

There was some rustling as people moved across the room on the opposite side of the hallway. The city was waking.

"Come," Aragorn said, straightening up, "let us find some food, and our friends. The day will be long, and we cannot tread it with empty stomachs."

"Finally some words of wisdom I can wholeheartedly relate to," Pippin chided as he followed the Man's long stride.

**

* * *

**

"We are wasting time here."

"We need a plan."

"Whatever they come up with," Thaíly pointed out, "involves too many people. We should leave now, track down the army, and sneak up to them unnoticed."

"And perhaps throw away our lives in the process," Rafél interjected.

"You have vowed to die for him, to protect him."

"But not in vain. Not when it will not ensure his safety or freedom. We could just as well run ourselves to death, trying to find him." Rafél had no love or fond feelings towards desperation, but that was what he felt.

"You know where he is," Thaíly insisted. "You just have to reach out and find him. Why have you not?"

Rafél looked at the half-man, half-monster from the corner of his eye. To him, Thaíly would never be a Man, and the blood of a vampire was rare though unmistakable. It irritated him that this untrustworthy creature could come here and tell him what to do – and be right in doing so. "There are reasons," he said at length.

"Are you afraid?"

"Perhaps I am not strong enough. In case you have not noticed, my powers have been massively weakened as of late."

Thaíly chuckled. "The strength of your body has nothing to do with the valour of your heart. Reach out for him. I am sure the distance is not too great. After all, if you love him, no length on this earth will be too great."

"None but one," Rafél said, closing his eyes.

There was a brief silence. Thaíly knew what he meant, so there was no reason to explain. "He is not dead."

"The Halls do not have him yet, no. But… he is far. And he is weak, within the shadows." Rafél felt his mind darken as he thought of Legolas and involuntarily his _fëa_ reached out for the mate his heart had chosen, perhaps against his better judgement. Well, there was nothing he could do about it; he could merely pledge these newfound feelings to the resolve he already had, and do all in his power to save Legolas.

"Find him," Thaíly pressed.

Rafél wondered why the other was in such a hurry. Did he not like the city of Men, or was there something else to it? Was he driven by guilt like Rafél himself? And if so, what had he done? After all, there were certain things in his behaviour that fed the Elf's suspicion more than usual. He may have followed his distrust, but one thing stood adamant in his heart: the other was right, he could not delay. The faster he found Legolas, the better their chances of saving him.

Closing his eyes, the Elf focused. He could feel Thaíly's satisfaction for a brief moment before his mind sank deeper.

_The distance between him and the darkness seemed to lessen, and the air was suddenly freezing cold on his skin, seeping deeper into him. He gasped, but did not give in. Pushing deeper still, searching for the younger Elf, he braced himself against the darkness and the stench of Evil. _

_Then, something went wrong. _

_For a moment he felt Legolas grasp at him, like a ghost from the shadows, but as he tried to make it linger, to strengthen the connection, something intervened. It was so close that it stole his breath, burning his mind. At once he knew he had to pull back, or he was risking his life, and perhaps that of his beloved._

Rafél found himself kneeling on the stones, smell of blood in his nostrils and swallowing the copper taste down his throat. His body was shaking. Thaíly was kneeling beside him, holding him up, concentration on his face. Their eyes met, Rafél's still dark from the brief but vicious pain. "We must hurry. Whatever stood between Legolas and me was powerful. It was as if it came from… within. Our connection is no longer unstained."

Thaíly lifted his eyes towards the rising Sun that had climbed over the mountain tops a considerable amount since they had first come out there. "Where?"

Rafél had not seen enough to satisfy his hunger for information, but he had at least some kind of vague feeling. "They have taken him to Mordor."

Thaíly did not pry more about that. He got up, leaving Rafél to his own struggle to regain his footing. "It is time for those mortals inside to learn the new meaning of haste. If they are not ready by midday…"

"We ride out alone," Rafél agreed. No longer would he sit idle.

Before they went inside, the Sinda allowed his eyes to rest towards the East. It seemed the daybreak was yet to reach some stretch of the land there. His thoughts lingered on Legolas, and the other's unknown fate. He hoped he had given the other some strength, brief as their touch had been.

**

* * *

**

"It pains me just like it pains everyone else, but I must think of my people as well – as should you, Aragorn," Éomer began, every eye in the room on him. Tension hung heavily in the air. "How much are we willing to risk for one Elf?" the King of Rohan asked. "Yes, Legolas has been a loyal friend and a valiant warrior, and fought battles beside me and my men –"

"But you think it is not worth the effort for us to try and save him?" Gimli thundered across the room. It was good that he was seated there, and nowhere near Éomer.

"Gimli," Aragorn hushed his friend, a firm hand on his broad chest to keep him still since the Dwarf looked tempted to get up and show Éomer exactly how much he appreciated his carefully selected words.

The Man's steady eyes next turned to his fellow King who had just spoken. "I see your worry, and blame you not for it. It is true we know little of Legolas' situation, and if he is indeed in Mordor," at that, his eyes rested briefly on Rafél, "it will be hard to release him. The risks will be great."

"I think you should not go, my Lord," Faramir noted from behind his King. "Like Éomer's people need him here, you will be needed in Gondor. We know the Enemy is planning something, and as long as we do not know what that something is…"

"I cannot turn my back on my friend!" Aragorn said firmly.

"No one expects you to, laddie," Gimli soothed the Man in turn.

"Many of us will go. Ones who are not bound by Lordship or people to govern," Thalión pointed out. Most of the Elves nodded.

"I think that does not lessen his desire to join us," Elladan wisely added, looking at his foster brother. Elrohir dared an open smile, seeing the stubbornness on Aragorn's face. "I think Elessar is going to join us, whatever your wish on the matter, Faramir," the Half-elf noted.

The Steward bowed his head in submission, but Aragorn's firm hand on his shoulder made him look up again. "We ride through Gondor on our way. I trust you and Imrahil to gather the news and raise the army if a need for battle arises."

There was no doubt Faramir would have liked to respond to that, but he knew his King's mind was set. The resignation on his face was as evident as the words he chose not to voice.

"I must remain with my people, at least until we are prepared to repel another attack," Éomer said a bit haltingly, as if he was expecting Gimli to hurl an axe at his head for those words. "I will ride for Gondor as soon as I can."

"And we shall welcome you with open arms, my friend," Aragorn acknowledged his fellow King's words with a nod. Éomer looked much relieved by that.

"Who shall accompany us to Mordor, then?" Gimli asked, getting up from his chair, flexing his strong arms as if preparing to mount their horses and ride out at once.

"The Elves will come," Celeborn said without hesitation. There seemed to be no argument between his people.

"The road will be dark, and treacherous," Gandalf spoke up for the first time, his bright eyes meeting the Elven Lord's.

"It is one I am willing to tread, to try and release my kinsman."

"We will be honoured by your sword among ours," Dínnor bowed.

"I hope you shall feel the same about mine," Gandalf smiled, standing up himself.

"And ours!" Merry and Pippin shouted at once, jumping to their feet, drawing their Elven blades.

Short silence followed, and the Hobbits looked around for support, the enthusiasm in their eyes replaced by disappointment.

"Let them come. They too are friends of Legolas," Shannai spoke up after a moment. The Hobbits looked at him with grateful faces, and it seemed the Elf had no trouble hiding his warm smile.

"We should leave you behind," snapped Thrénandu, who had been brooding ever since they left Helm's Deep. It seemed he was not pleased with their current situation.

"Hobbits have travelled to Mordor before, unseen," Thaíly interrupted the heated staring competition between the two Elves. "They are good spies, if they manage to keep their mouths shut." The dark eyes bore into Merry and Pippin as if to question them on the subject.

"They shall come," Aragorn decided, letting his small friends off the hook.

"Good," Gimli roared, "then let us be on our merry way, because I am afraid that no joy shall linger with us long after we reach that cursed land." His fingers smoothed the firm end of his axe almost nervously.

"We will meet some of the Ithilien Rangers on our way," Aragorn told Faramir as everyone got up and went to seek for their gear. "We move fast, and with the bravery of our men, the strength of the Dwarves, and the senses of the Elves, we shall make our journey as painless and swift as possible."

"I hope you find him in good health," Faramir nodded. He seemed somewhat comforted by the idea that his Lord was going to take some of the Rangers with him.

"So do I," Aragorn mused, his eyes darkening again and he turned to strap Andúril around his waist. It was time to ride.

_to be continued…_


	45. Chapter 43: Unsuccessful Attempts

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 43: Unsuccessful Attempts**

* * *

**Osgiliath**

Faramir insisted accompanying his King until they reached Osgiliath. It had been painful enough to see Éomer stay behind, and hear the regret in his tense words when they parted ways before the walls of Edoras. He had to take care of his people, though, and would join them once matters in Rohan were under control.

Until then, they were on their own. The Elves did not seem too concerned with that, but then, their thoughts were with their lost Prince and his fate, and it was not their King who would accompany them to the darkness of Mordor.

The sky around the looming tops of Ephel Dúath seemed darker than ever. As Faramir eyed them, picking at his bow string in frustration, he once again swore in his mind to learn one day the kind of lore that would turn Elessar's mind once it had already been set. But then, it was also the man's determination he respected so much, so perhaps it was for the best if he tried not to meddle with it.

"Be at ease, Steward," Gimli said gruffly, walking up to him. The way he touched his axe's blade was much alike with the manner Faramir was fingering his own weapon. "I shall keep Aragorn safe. You have my word."

"And a stout word that no doubt is, Master Dwarf, but still I worry," Faramir replied. He knew Gimli had travelled long with Aragorn, and there was much between them. The Dwarf would not see his friend come to harm's way, King or not. At the same time, though, there was something else to consider: the jewel hanging around Gimli's neck, in a shape of a delicate bird, was a mark that there was something else at stake for both Gimli and Aragorn, and that was Legolas' safety. This foolhardy attempt to save him was a good proof that anything could happen if they forgot caution, and Faramir had a feeling they already had.

"Your King shall be safe with us," joined another voice, much fairer, and with a respectful bow Faramir turned to meet Celeborn, flanked by his Lórien warriors – for like warriors they looked, their faces grim though fair, eyes scanning the horizon darkly. It seemed they did not take joy from the idea of entering Mordor, but their hearts were set. Faramir hoped he could join them as his own heart yearned, but Gondor had to be raised, armies gathered, and plans prepared. He had to trust these eternal warriors to keep his Lord safe.

"Mithrandir is with us," said Haldir. "Surely the knowledge of that calms you somewhat. He went through much trouble to get Aragorn to his crown. I do not see him casting away all that hard work."

Gimli chuckled beside them, stroking his beard, and then marched away towards the rest of the group. Faramir watched him go, then glanced towards the spot where Gandalf was conversing with the Rivendell Elves, Aragorn seated on a stone next to them, focused on tending his blades. Every once in a while the grey eyes would flicker towards the Mountains of Shadow, but if there was any fear that he felt, it was hidden by the determined force of his will.

After a while Aragorn re-directed his gaze, fixing it upon Faramir. The Steward gave him a nod, knowing he had been caught staring. With a last, loathing look at the mountains, Faramir strode to the main group of miss-matched people; Men, Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, and a creature he had no name for. He had no desire to ask Thaíly of his origin, either, since he had already decided the other was a rather unpleasant character he wanted nothing to do with.

"Are we ready?" Aragorn asked after a moment, getting up, Andúril already strapped to his side. He halted beside Faramir, clapping his shoulder with one, firm hand. "The sooner we move out, the further we will be before it gets dark."

"I wish you would not go," Faramir tried one more time, though he knew it would be fruitless.

Aragorn gave him a sad smile. "I know, Faramir. And you would rather come with me than have me go alone. But I am in good company," the Man said, nodding towards the people gathered around them. "I owe it to Legolas to try to save him. I would not find peace until I knew he was safe."

Faramir nodded. He knew there was no reason to be obnoxious and try to reason with his Lord. "Journey swift. Send us a word if you can."

"We will," one of the Three Cousins, Thalión, said. He gazed up to the sky promptly, his eyes following a bird flying over them before it headed towards the forest of Ithilien in the distance. Faramir was not certain if it was supposed to be a sign of some sort.

Gimli snorted beside him, so perhaps it had been one. "Let us be off," the Dwarf said out loud, twisting his hands excitedly.

Aragorn nodded, and with a final squeeze of his hand, he let go of Faramir's shoulder and helped Gimli to mount his horse Roheryn before jumping atop it himself. The others followed the example, Dwarves and Hobbits helped to climb onto the great animals.

Faramir watched them go in silence until his eyes could no longer tell them apart from the shadows on the opposite side of Anduin. Only then he dared to return to the Men waiting for him so that they could head back to Minas Tirith.

**

* * *

**

"Is it much further still?"

It was Pippin, once again, his voice high and almost plaintive. Aragorn sighed, wondering if he should say anything at all to his small, impatient companion.

"I wonder how Frodo and Sam managed to travel anywhere at all. We must have gone on for days…" Merry joined his cousin, although they had not travelled more than one day and night. Their pace was slower now, their horses resting a little after the long night the Elves had spent guiding them in the darkness. The Men had forebodings about travelling at night, at such a hostile place as the border of Mordor, but Aragorn trusted their Eldar companions and had even dared to doze for a few hours at Roheryn's back. Now he walked beside his mount just like everyone else stepped beside theirs, trying to give the animals some rest without stopping their journey. They would need to stop eventually, though, and the Elves were scouting for a proper place to do that.

Shannai marched a few dozen yards ahead of everyone else. He was the only Elf remaining with the group; everyone else of his kin had spread around to find the safest path. The Elf's step was light even in the shadow of Mordor, but it was clear by now that the company he had kept Shannai's spirits very high indeed.

"We are making good progress," Gandalf said, sounding thoughtful as he gazed at the trees and rocks around them, then at the sky that was grey rather than blue. "It should not be too long now…"

"I think it is too long for the Halflings," one of the Rangers muttered, but dared say no more after his King glanced his way.

Aragorn dared to smile, then looked back where the Dwarves and Hobbits were walking together. Young Fundal looked both excited and alarmed in these new surroundings. Gimli merely looked grave, his hand occasionally caressing the jewel hidden beneath his beard. It was as if he was trying to reach Legolas, hoping that each step closer to Mordor would somehow bring their friend to his reach. It had not happened yet, and since Rafél was not able to feel him through their bond, Aragorn did not hold high hopes for Gimli's tireless attempts. Still, he supposed he would have done the same in the Dwarf's place.

Shannai stopped before them, and the entire group came to a halt. A moment later there was a rustle of leaves, and Thalión appeared from the trees. The Rangers looked up in awe and amazement as the Elf stepped from one branch to another as if he was taking uneven stairs, and then dropped to the ground from a height that would have certainly been rather painful for a Man. A second passed, and Haldir followed him with his Lórien Elves.

"The forest ahead of us is clear. Dínnor, Asthaldo, and the Peredhil brothers headed towards the mountains. If all goes well, we can enter Mordor through Morgul Vale," Thalión reported.

Aragorn nodded, changing looks with Gandalf. If the enemy was awaking, Morgul Vale would not be abandoned. The Elves would bring them news, though. "Shall we wait here or move towards the Valley?" he asked.

"I think it would be for the best if we wait here. The horses and Men can rest their feet, and I am sure that even our valiant Dwarves and Hobbits appreciate a break," Haldir said diplomatically.

Gimli snorted nonetheless, but sat down to the closest rock he could find. The Hobbits also sat down, digging into their backpacks to see if there was anything edible there. Shannai headed to sit with them, and had a few apples he had found somewhere, which definitely made him most welcome in the eyes of the hungry Hobbits. Not that they would have denied his company: Merry and Pippin still seemed mesmerised by Elves. Dwarves were so much alike them, but Elves were a race of their own, and it seemed Shannai's similar interest in Hobbits gave them a lot to talk about.

The Men searched for a place to sit down, their wary eyes remaining on the trees. Tension was almost palpable in the air. It could not be helped, though. As long as they remained this close to Mordor, the shadows would keep them on their guard. Aragorn wished they would soon defeat this new darkness, so that his people could freely wander in these woods again without fear. Perhaps Elves, too…

"You have never tried it?" Pippin's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Aragorn looked up. Pippin was holding his pipe in his hand, looking at Shannai.

"Elves, as a rule, do not understand or appreciate the subtlety of a good smoke," Gimli said knowingly. He had taken out his own pipe as well, and Shannai was visibly too curious to argue.

"I did tell you once that I wanted to try it," the Elf finally stated.

"What happened?" Pippin ask, lighting his pipe, taking a drag, and gave a long, appreciative sigh.

"Legolas told me not to," Shannai answered, and he looked rather disappointed by the memory. "He did not even tell me why, just told me I was better off without trying."

"Legolas never tried it, not even once. Valar knows I and Aragorn have tried to talk him into it…" Gimli mused with a soft smile.

"Do not get me drawn into this, my friend," Aragorn said from his spot, but as he spoke he dug into his bag, retrieving his own pipe. He did not have the luxury of it very often these days, but since he was in good company… Gandalf smiled at him from his place beside him, relaxed and content with the sweet smell of Longbottom Leaf already hanging in the air.

"Well, I could try now," Shannai suggested after a moment of silence.

Pippin helpfully offered his pipe to the Elf, who inspected it for a while, sniffed at it, and then mimicked what he had seen everyone else do. He coughed a little, making Gimli chortle. The Hobbits merely smiled and began to share tips of how to do it right, and in the end Pippin had to request to have his pipe back because Shannai seemed so intent on learning this new-found art.

Aragorn looked at them, and listened to Merry's explanation of the various different Leaves – to which discussion Gandalf soon joined, to everyone's surprise. Shannai listened with keen interest, his light green eyes gleaming like a new leaf on a sunny day, reflecting the rays of Anor. It was as if they were back to Shire before it was raided by Orcs, and not in the shadow of Mordor.

They rested for a few hours, and it seemed the hearts of the Men had been lightened somewhat after they had listened to the chatter of the Hobbits and one Elf. Even though close to the Mountains of Shadow, their fears seemed to be alleviated for now.

"Once this is over, you must come visit the Green Dragon with us," Pippin said as they set out again. His voice rang clear in the darkness of the valley they were currently travelling through.

"I have heard of it," Shannai said. He was once again the only Elf remaining with the company; Thalión and Haldir had returned to the woods with their companions, scouting ahead.

"Probably from us," Merry grinned, and he laughed alongside with his cousin. "It is not in its old glory, really, but still worth a look…"

"Among other places. It seems things do change in the Shire after all. I remember this one time when –"

"Pippin, would you be quiet for a moment?" Gandalf requested, his blue eyes fixed on the path before him. Shadowfax had slowed his trot beneath him, and the Men around him suddenly shifted in nervousness again.

"Perhaps we should make a list. I am very interested in seeing the Hobbit way of life. Is it true there are actually five meals that you eat on a normal day?" Shannai kept on talking, leaning on his horse to be closer to the Hobbits on their respective mounts.

"Five?" Pippin exclaimed. "I think the regular number must be seven, but that is only the worst of days, really, when you have a whole lot of things to do. So, you can see why travelling with you lot is so very strange to us…" Pippin surely would have gone on complaining, but Gandalf shot him a look and he shut his mouth.

"That is fascinating," Shannai mused. "I wonder if I could tempt myself to eat that many times a day. It seemed so strange. How do you do it? And what kind of food? Are there any specialties –"

Shannai's litany of questions would have surely gone on for much longer, but Gandalf's staff swung through the air, knocking him sharply on the head. The Elf let out a sharp breath, then rubbed his scalp and looked a bit guiltily towards the stern looking Wizard.

Pippin laughed on his horse; Aragorn knew he had had his fair share of Gandalf's temper while they travelled as the Fellowship. Now, the Hobbit could add one to his list, since Gandalf treated him with another sharp tap of his white staff. That cut the Hobbit's laugh short, reducing it into low muttering.

"Thank you," Gandalf said smoothly, then directed his gaze at the path again.

Aragorn sat up upon Roheryn, uncertain of what the Wizard was suddenly so worried about.

"Someone is approaching," Shannai said suddenly, his voice steady this time, very different from what it had been when he was having fun. Now, clearly, something was wrong.

"Thank you, Shannai. I would have loved you to tell me that long _before_ now. Quick, off the road, everyone," Gandalf commanded, and they headed to the woods around their path. They had barely found a place out of the sight of the path and got off their horses before they could see black shapes scurrying along the road from the direction they were headed in. As they came closer, Shannai sneered in disgust, and Aragorn felt his own fingers tighten around the handle of his sword instinctively. Orc after Orc they came, their ranks not quite in order, armour clanking loudly as the Men, Dwarves, Elf, and a Wizard waited for them to pass.

At any moment Aragorn expected one of the foul creatures to sniff their fresh tracks and halt the entire group, but that did not happen. With gnarling swears and baleful looks at the sky – they never liked to travel at day-time if they could help it – the Orcs passed, hurried on by their ruthless leaders that felt no alienation towards using the whips in their hands.

Once they were safely gone, and Shannai had gone to check they were indeed safe, Aragorn dared to breathe deep again.

"That was close," Gimli muttered.

"Pure luck," one of the Men muttered.

Gandalf glanced heavenwards, closed his eyes and muttered some silent thanks, then straightened up and strode to the path. The others followed him with some reluctance. Just then, Shannai returned, running lightly just outside the trail. "They are gone," the Elf informed them, halting.

"Fool's luck," Gandalf murmured, then got atop of his horse again. "If you do not feel like protecting us from further battalions of Orcs coming across us, feel free to say that now, Shannai," he went on. "I do not have a wish to be surprised in such a manner as this. We are too close to Mordor to lose our focus. There is too much at stake."

Shannai bowed his head, then strode ahead of them, keeping a silent watch as they rode on.

"I hope you did not hurt his feelings," Pippin piped up in a low tone, looking at Gandalf as if he was going to get another knock around the head for saying such a thing. But he was a brave little Hobbit, and Aragorn knew it was beyond him _not_ to speak up.

"I merely reminded him of the graveness of our mission. His best friend's life may depend on our safe journey to Mordor," Gandalf said, his tone almost mournful. "Shannai is trying to draw hope from anything he can, but he is also easily distracted by his new friendships. He ought to know that himself, after all these years." The Wizard gave Gimli a look. Aragorn smiled, knowing the Dwarf had been forced to endure Shannai's endless questions for years now. "We need him to remember that Legolas' safety is all that matters," Gandalf finished, his face drawn all of a sudden, as if he expected some great trials to lie ahead of him.

"We will find him. Alive," Aragorn told his old friend sternly. He knew he could accept no alternative.

**

* * *

**

The day was only drawing towards the evening, but the woods were already dark. With each step, the grass seemed darker and dryer – less alive. Such were the trees as well; their bark was dry and crackled, their branches shivering in the breeze without the lush leaf-covering that he had grown used to. The very soil beneath his feet had a stench of evil. The light that filtered to the ground was cold upon his skin. Everything was lifeless around him, dead or dying.

There were not many places like this upon Arda, but one resided in his home forest: near the ruins of Dol Guldur, nothing grew. It was sad that Mordor could remind him of home.

A dry, dead twig snapped somewhere behind him, and Rafél's attention peaked immediately. He tilted his head slightly to the side, and from the corner of his eye he could see the darkly clad figure of Thaíly approaching him. He moved like a ghost, but for the Elf's senses he was still easy enough to find.

"A word, Guardian?" the other asked, his rough voice breaking the silence, making Rafél cringe inside.

"I assume I cannot stop you," he said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. He had been aware the other was trailing after him, but then, he did not bother to guess for what reasons that might be. Certainly not worry.

"There is a matter which I would like to discuss with you. Now that we are so conveniently alone, I have no fear of unwanted ears listening into our conversation." Thaíly took a look around, as if to make sure they were alone – something Rafél knew for certain. The next Elf in their chain of mapping out the road was half a mile away from them.

"We will find Legolas soon enough. I am sure you can contain your news that long," Rafél said, certain he had no desire to hear anything Thaíly had to say.

"Ah, but the thing is, I wish to discuss it with _you_ before I tell Legolas. It is a matter of… how shall I put it? Well, I would assume it will be awkward business for the Elves." Thaíly did not sound as if he cared too much either way, but there was a tone of seriousness in his voice, and Rafél finally halted, turning to look at him. "When you headed south to warn Helm's Deep of the impending attack, and you got caught… I could have followed you, but I had business in the north so I arrived only once the battle had ended."

"I hope your _business_ was worth it, then," Rafél snapped. He had no desire to remember those particular events, although he knew he would never forget – not even if they got Legolas back alive and unharmed. He had failed to protect his Prince, and he would refuse to let that memory escape from his grasp.

"I went north to get help," Thaíly went on, unconcerned by Rafél's dilemma. "I knew Legolas needed protection none of you could provide, and it would seem I placed my bets correctly. As Legolas asked me to, I was tracking the Nine and the One who rides with them. It seems that the One who keeps the company of Nazgûl deems Legolas' life worthy of something. Of what I have heard, it was him who took your Prince that day on the battlefield."

Rafél stared at Thaíly. "Is this what you wanted to tell me? That you led the Nine to our tracks, told them where to find us?"

"They would have found you nonetheless, I am sure," Thaíly sneered, "if only they had wanted to. As it was, they were uninterested until I told the One that Legolas' life might be in danger. He seemed to think the Man leading the army would not appreciate his life. Which leads me to suspect Legolas is still alive."

Rafél suppressed the urge to drive his sword through the other. He turned on his heels and began to walk once again. The Nazgûl were terrible creatures. Anyone who would seek out their company was mad. Most creatures of the Dark avoided Ringwraiths if they could help it. Of course, everyone had thought they were destroyed with Sauron. Why they were back, and kept company with the creature that had an interest in Legolas, he did not know. "What is he? The Tenth rider. He is no wraith for sure."

"I think we can establish as much," Thaíly agreed, following him through the half-dead forest. "But whatever he is, he wields enough power to bring a group of Elves to their knees, and that is saying something."

After experiencing that dark power firsthand, Rafél could only agree. "So, you told them to come after us. Then what? You did not follow them, I assume."

"You might think my source was unreliable, and I can only agree… But one of the Nine told me something I could not let go without checking. He told me to beware the royal blood of Mirkwood – that the King had already fallen."

Rafél stopped again. His eyes scanned the forest, but his mind worked another path than the one before him. "Why would it say that? And why did you believe it? They are our enemies. They only seek to destroy and betray us."

"It was too kind of an advice coming from a Nazgûl, on that I agree with you. They know whose side I am on. But it bothered me, so I rode further north."

"And what did you find?"

There was silence. They stared at each other, and Thaíly was the first to look away. "Not much. But what I have heard before, and seen… Eryn Lasgalen is no longer a safe place to live. The darkness has descended, and it greatly reminds me of the darkest years of Mirkwood. I did not go to seek the Elves, and I doubt I would have seen a sign of what the Dark Rider referred to. But tell me… what do you think it meant?"

"Other than to throw us off? I cannot say," Rafél muttered.

"You have to do better than that."

A challenge was in Thaíly's voice. A dare. Rafél tried not to take the bait, but his mind instantly travelled to the few incidents that could mean nothing… Thranduil's trips, one of them especially well timed if one looked at the attack against Woodland Realm. The darkening of the forest no doubt affected its Lord as well, but Rafél had a nagging voice of doubt in his mind. What if the Nazgûl had told them the truth? "There is no way to know. Not now."

"Well, just in case you happen to think of it…" Thaíly mused, stepping beside him as they once again continued to walk. "Perhaps you should determine to yourself with whom your loyalties lay: with the son, or the father?"

Rafél dearly hoped it would not come to that. Thranduil had appointed him to protect Legolas when the Prince was still just a baby. He had fought beside the King for years. He had fought beside Thranduil's father Oropher. But at the same time… "My heart and soul belong to Legolas." Perhaps his heart had deceived him, but his love for the Prince was strong, and he could not deny it. Tearing his own heart out of his chest would have been easier.

Thaíly smiled, teeth shining in the waning light. "Good thing you did not have to think about it too long. Makes things a lot easier if our black robed devil is actually telling us the truth."

Rafél was not willing to take advice from Ringwraiths just yet, but the warning stood clear in his mind as they again walked in silence.

**

* * *

**

"This is it," Celeborn said, and the trail of people behind him stopped. The grave tremble in his deep voice made the Elves glance nervously about themselves, as if they wanted to avoid what was right before them: the dark stones and long shadows stood uninvitingly, marking the beginning of the Morgul Vale.

What was left of Minas Morgul after the downfall of Sauron was a recognizable fortress. Statues had crumbled down and parts of the stone walls fallen, but altogether it had held onto most of its past glory, if one wanted to call it such.

"It has been a long time since Men ruled here," Gandalf mused.

"Living Men, that is," Aragorn muttered; the Nazgûl had taken over Minas Morgul long ago.

"Is this where Frodo and Sam travelled?" Pippin suddenly spoke up. He gazed around, and it seemed he was not affected by the shadows around him like the Men and Elves.

Gandalf looked around as well, then pointed to their left. "Right up along those stairs, I would imagine. To the pass of Cirith Ungol."

"We are not going to take the stairs, are we?" Gimli asked. While the Dwarf must have taken comfort from the nearness of mountains, the way he glared upon the endless raise of winding, narrow stairs was far from friendly.

"Nay. There is no need, and besides, we do not have the time," Gandalf said, then looked ahead again. "We shall follow Morgulduin as we have thus far, past this accursed city, and after passing the Tower of Cirith Ungol, we are much closer to our destination."

The Elves did not seem encouraged by this plan. Their bright eyes looked at the shadows with venom and dislike. "Many shadows still linger here," Thalión spoke out. "Shadows of pain and evil."

"We are well within the borders of Mordor; what did you expect?" Thaíly snapped. He seemed right at home here, casually leaning against a fallen stone figure that must have guarded the bridge leading to the gates of Minas Morgul.

Haldir, who happened to stand beside the dark man, snorted softly, but did not step forward either.

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, and then at their visibly uneasy friends. "Well, let us go, then," Merry said bravely, "we are wasting time here, and I recall someone saying we are constantly under the threat of being found by our enemies."

Pippin nodded beside his cousin, and the two marched forward, right past the fallen statues and crumbled walls.

Gandalf smiled, watching the Hobbits. "They ask me sometimes: 'Why Frodo? Why send two Hobbits on such a perilous journey?' This is why." His blue eyes sparkled, his smile braving the shadows around them. "They are no great warriors, and they most certainly are not fearless, but they have courage beyond their short stature. They have a lot to fight for in their stout hearts."

"Admirable creatures," Shannai breathed beside him, almost entranced.

"You will do well to learn from them," Gandalf told the Elf, and watched as Shannai stood up straight, then marched after the two Halflings.

"Come on," Gimli muttered, "we will look like fools standing here while those three are already marching on."

Aragorn chuckled, and the two moved forward, followed by the reluctant Rangers of Ithilien.

"Fan out. Keep an eye out. We draw close to our enemies," Celeborn commanded his Elven soldiers, and they did as they were told. A slight tenseness could be seen in each of their movements, compared to their usually light step, but Gandalf knew that they were keen to feel the darkness of this place, and thus he did not blame them.

"Rafél? Are you all right?"

Gandalf stopped, looking back at Dínnor, and the Guardian who had halted only few steps from where he had stood before. His face was ashen grey and pained, and the Wizard turned in alarm.

"Rafél? What is wrong?" Dínnor repeated, his voice tense.

The Guardian's eyes were closed, his brow twisted in pain none of them could see a cause for. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the deep brown eyes snapped open, dark as the early morning around them. "We must hurry," Rafél said, then set forward, his stature far from its usual nobleness.

"What is it?" the eldest of the Cousins kept demanding, blocking his way.

For a moment Gandalf was certain Rafél was going to strike Dínnor for his question, but his features softened after a moment, the anger replaced by deep sorrow and pain. "Legolas is in pain."

That seemed to halt the rest of the group that had lingered to see what was wrong.

"Are they torturing him?" Gimli asked, dashing back to them.

Rafél shook his head, as if he would have preferred that option. "No. It is not the kind of pain a mortal can understand."

"Then what?" young Fundal asked, his deep voice trembling.

"The kind that eats away the soul and kills the heart," Rafél explained a bit breathlessly. "I am giving him all the power that I can, to withstand it…"

"Do not lend him too much," Thaíly interjected all of a sudden, trotting back to them. "You will need it," he said to the Guardian, stopping in front of him, as if to physically ease Rafél's agony.

"What?" Rafél snapped, clearly not appreciating the closeness.

"Men are coming," Thaíly finally explained, giving the rest of them a glance.

"Men?" one of the Gondorians asked, baffled. "Reinforcements from Gondor?"

Thaíly snorted, clicking his tongue sharply. "Not only Orcs and foul beasts fight on the side of the Dark. There are plenty of Men in the East."

That seemed to subdue any further questions. "Spread out," Glorfindel advised his fellow Elves. "The rest of you, stay together, and try not to make too much noise. Stay out of sight."

"Whose sight?" Pippin asked, frowning and looking around. "I do not see anyone."

"They are coming," Gandalf murmured. "Prepare yourselves. Even if we can avoid this battle, we might not be so lucky next time. We are deep within the enemy's territory. One wrong move, and our hopes for saving Legolas are for naught."

The Hobbits swallowed but nodded. The Dwarves pulled free their axes, fingering them in clear anticipation. Aragorn fanned his Men around them, all of them now alert for any unexpected sound or movement.

**

* * *

**

It did not help the tension that for the better part of the morning – which could have easily been mistaken into a night in the darkness of Mordor – they walked undisturbed. The Elves were rarely seen, but Gandalf reassured his companions they were around; scouting the surroundings and perhaps misleading the enemy, because none of them had come back to warn them of an approaching danger.

Shannai was the first to return with the other Mirkwood Elves. Rafél seemed even paler than before, but he said not a word of his discomfort. The other Elves were also hushed about it, encouraging others to follow their example. One by one the Eldar returned, and finally Thaíly joined them, sharp eyes glinting.

"Anything?" Aragorn asked.

"There are Men, patrolling the Plateu of Gorgoroth before us. The land is very open; it will be tricky to cross it unnoticed. Bringing the horses further than this would be foolish," Elladan reported, his twin nodding.

Regretfully the Men let their mounts go. "Fear not," Aragorn calmed them. "The Elven horses shall lead our fearless steeds into safety." He patted Roheryn, then pushed the animal away. With several high neighs, they all disappeared, Morchaint being the only one to stay behind. Rafél stepped up to the horse, slid his hands across the black coat, and softly murmured to the keen ears in Elven tongue, after which the stallion followed its companions.

"Such loyalty from an animal," Thaíly snorted softly.

"You would know, would you not?" Aragorn muttered, making Shannai laugh beside him. The half-vampire gave them a dark look, then began to walk away again. He did not go far before stopping, and the Elves lifted their heads in alarm a second later.

"We are not alone," Thaíly announced, drawing his sword.

"I thought you said we were safe," Gimli growled.

"Never did we promise such a thing, Master Dwarf," Asthaldo said lightly, preparing his knives. "We honestly thought they were going to turn another way, miles from here, but it seems they have changed their minds."

"Perhaps they saw one of you," Adír suggested helpfully, a strong hand on Fundal's shoulder. The young Dwarf looked just as grim as his elder kinsmen, but also excited; he was yet to see his share of battles in his life.

The Elves just huffed in response, refusing to answer such a question, and Gandalf shared a look of wry amusement with Aragorn. The moment did not last long, however. A distant sound of feet could be heard, steadily approaching. "There are a lot of them coming," Pippin commented, but was hushed by Merry, who had a stern, tense look on his face. They had their small Elven swords in hand, sharp eyes gazing at the shadowy land.

Around a small bend of jagged rock and stone came a group of Men; line after line in formation, creating a steady sound as they approached. A small cloud of dust trailed around their feet, but without the light of the Sun, it could barely be seen. They came closer, but for the time being it did not seem as if the hiding group had been spotted.

"Do you think they will turn?" Shannai asked in a quiet voice, barely audible.

"Shh," Haldir hissed nonetheless, restlessly eyeing the approaching army of Men.

"We have to move," Elrohir said after a moment.

"They will spot us if we do," Aragorn deemed darkly.

"If they do not walk over us first," Elladan defended his twin, shifting anxiously. His eyes scanned their surroundings, but the desperation on his fair face showed he saw nothing the others already had not: if they left their current shelter, there might not be another to be found in time. Not for a group as big as theirs.

"They are coming right at us!" Pippin noted with a nervous edge in his voice. He was standing on the balls of his feet, looking ready to sprint away at the first given order.

"One of us can try and lead them away," Haldir offered. The Elves nodded, although not with much enthusiasm.

"It would be a lost cause, and we shall not abandon one of our own," Aragorn refused.

"Move," Gandalf commanded after a moment; it would do them no good to sit here, waiting to be found. They would be seen, hiding or running, and perhaps luck would be with them and give them an opportunity to fight their way to freedom. This was not an opportune place for a fight, though, and they needed to find a place where they could keep their ground.

The Men did not need to be told twice, and after they sprang up, the Elves and Hobbits followed suit, the Dwarves looking as if they wanted to linger, but thought better of it. "Live to fight another day," Gimli muttered, as if repeating the words once spoken to him.

They did not get far before the enemy spotted them. Among the rocks, there was no place to hide, and the uneven terrain made it hard to move quietly. With a roar, the Men of the East gave chase. The Elves shot down many of them, but doing that while attempting to stay outside the range of enemy bows was not easy.

"We cannot run forever," Asthaldo pointed out.

"And we are going to run out of arrows if that is our only plan," Thalión added.

Panting breaths and the sound of running feet was the only reply they got – until Gandalf halted, turned, and drew Glamdring free of its scabbard. Everyone else stopped, turning to face the enemy, who halted soon after realising their change of plan.

"And now?" Gimli asked, brandishing his axe.

"Now we fight," Gandalf decided gravely. Any hopes of walking deeper to Mordor unnoticed were now dashed.

"Shannai," Rafél spoke quickly, "stay with the Halflings."

"We can defend ourselves," Merry interrupted, a look of offence on his features.

"I am certain of that," the Elf replied in a lower tone. "And that is why I want you to watch Shannai's back; he is not very good with his bow."

"I am good enough," Shannai retorted bitterly, holding his bow firmly. He sounded insulted, yet deadly serious.

Rafél left it to that, moving to a side. The Men were approaching more cautiously now, their number at least thrice as great as they circled the group. The Elves eyed their enemies carefully, waiting, bows ready but arrows remaining on theirs strings for now. Then, without warning, they all attacked, as if sharing one mind that told them what to do. Bows singings, blades twinkling in the weak light, they pushed at the circle of Men.

Gandalf watched for a moment, then joined the fight as Aragorn commanded his Men forth, and the Dwarves lifted their axes. It may have been a glorious battle, but the Easterlings were many, and while dying for a cause such as their may have been noble, it was not their plan; Gandalf told his friends to lower their weapons. "We are no use to Legolas dead." There was no chance of escape in sight, and he was content to wait until there was an opportunity to escape and save the Prince.

The dark servants seemed anxious to finish them off, but they stood still, waiting. As if they were standing guard.

"What are they waiting for?" Gimli finally asked.

His question was answered as the Men parted to allow their leader to approach the defeated group. Tzórag eyed them suspiciously, but he also looked very pleased with the new turn of events. His dark eyes flashed as he gazed upon Gandalf – it was hard not to recognize a Wizard – then moved on and raised an eyebrow at Rafél. "You are a hard one to kill," he noted, but there was no hint of respect in his voice. Rafél did not look as if he was taking it as a compliment, either. Gandalf raised his hand, just slightly, to calm the Elf who looked ready to attack the Balchoth descendant regardless of the warriors standing around them.

")Easy, my friend,(" Thalión spoke softly to Rafél in the Elven tongue, taking his arm into a tight hold. ")He will take us closer to Legolas. Save your strength.("

Tzórag's eyes flickered towards them, but he did not demand to know what was being said. "Disarm them," the Man commanded. "We will take them with us."

Reluctantly everyone handed over their weapons, carefully following what their enemies did with them. "An old man needs his walking stick," Gandalf argued when they reached for his staff, but the Easterlings would not be fooled.

"Then ask one of your friends to carry you," Tzórag suggested.

Muttering a curse far more ancient than any of the Men standing around him, Gandalf gave them his staff. Gimli walked over to him, offering his support, which Gandalf kindly took. Who knew, perhaps one of his enemies would take pity of him, although he doubted it.

They were closely watched by the Easterlings, but left unbound or restrained. Perhaps their captors had not expected to find someone, and thus were not prepared to take prisoners. Also, they were being surrounded by a fairly sizable amount of guards, which would make any escape attempt rather foolish. Still, the Easterlings followed their every move.

It may have been a great misfortune to be caught, but as it was, they travelled faster towards their destination than they had before. All they needed to do was to wait, and then seize the first opportunity to escape once they were close enough to save Legolas. Gandalf tried to anticipate what they were up against, and what would be the best plan of action, but once they began to near the old foundations of Barad-dûr, there was something else that caught his attention.

"Is it just me, or are the shadows deeper here?" Elladan mused as they walked, eyeing their surroundings suspiciously and with apparent distaste.

"You are not imagining it, I am afraid," Gandalf answered airily. He could feel it in the air, like a breathing of something huge and prominent. A presence not quite like anything else he had met in a long time.

"Look," Shannai whispered, pointing ahead. Everyone looked, and even in the darkness they could tell apart from the mountainside behind it a broken tower. At its feet scurried black shapes, though it was hard to tell how many they were from the distance.

"We are most definitely not alone," Dínnor said, gritting his teeth. Frustration was apparent in his voice, tension making his usually light step almost rigid. Gandalf knew that he did not possess the words to calm the Elf, so he did not attempt to do so; he, too, could feel the darkness and evil pressing closer, and his Elven companions were sensitive to such things.

They walked a few more miles, then stopped. The Hobbits squinted to the darkness, shivering under their cloaks. "I thought…" Merry began.

"We saw it fall apart, did we not?" Pippin joined him.

"If my memory does not fail me, and my eyes deceive me, I would say yes," Gimli grunted.

"The news we got after the final battle was that Barad-dûr was brought down," Thrénandu agreed, frowning at the structure ahead of them. He had been silent for most of the trip, clearly holding great disdain over Legolas being caught. He followed his kinsmen, though, in an attempt to release his Prince, and each new misfortune seemed to be eating at his patience.

"It does look a little shaken up," Shannai observed, tilting his head as he studied the sight. Then his light green eyes shifted lower, to the masses of Dark servant mingling around them. "How come there are so many of them?"

"They multiply in the darkness like vermin," Thénandu muttered.

"That sounds almost superstitious," Asthaldo noted.

"Nothing magical about their numbers," Thaíly confirmed. "While you celebrated your victory on the peaceful side of the mountains, in here, they had time to pick themselves up, dust themselves, and put new plans in motion."

"Is lifting Barad-dûr among those plans?" Haldir questioned. "It seems rather pointless to me, not to mention a waste of effort. Sauron is gone. His minions can uplift all the monuments they want, but it is not going to bring back the Dark Lord."

Rafél's face flinched at that. Gandalf would have not noticed it if he had not been looking at the ancient Sindar right that moment.

With a sigh he looked towards the mass of enemies passing around them, and then at the structure of rock and stone and iron reaching towards the soot black sky. "I was afraid of this," he said quietly to himself.

_to be continued…_


	46. Chapter 44: Hope Fades

**Chapter 44: Hope Fades**

**

* * *

Barad-dûr**

Legolas stared at his reflection, feeling the slight tremble of revulsion trailing up and down his spine. His skin was sweaty and clammy, and he had hardly slept since his last talk with the Dark Elf called Daroth. He had been brought food, but he could not eat; the twisting, swirling mass of _darkness_ inside him took care of that.

His dreams were dark images, insane and full of destruction. It was as if the pictures were too complex for him to see, and he could not comprehend half of it. His only comfort was to know that they were not his dreams and thoughts – and it was a cold comfort indeed. He had struggled not to sleep after the first time the visions came, but his body was worn out, and he could feel his strength fading even now.

His blue eyes, pained yet still bright in the darkness, stared back at him from the mirror. His fingers fiddled with his clothes; he had been given new garments, his old clothing taken away, and although he loathed anything given to him by the dark servants, he would either wear these black robes or stand naked.

Within him, Sauron was pleased. There was a dark, sick echo even in that emotion, though, and Legolas had a hard time keeping himself upright. He did not know how Annatar had thought him capable of withstanding a torment such as this. No breath he took seemed to be able to fill his lungs. His chest was tight with pain, and he wondered if this was how being ill felt to his mortal friends.

Worst of all, though, was that he could feel his _fëa_ suffering. It was being torn apart, bit by bit, crumbling beneath the endless push of Sauron's will and darkness.

A hand was laid on his shoulder, and Legolas took a shuddery gasp, opening his eyes. He had not even noticed closing them, or falling to his knees in front of the mirror. All of a sudden he felt the weight lift itself, though, and gazed at the mirror to find Daroth's dark eyes looking at him.

"I am dying," Legolas finally gasped.

"It will hurt less when you stop fighting him. When he takes over… you feel nothing after that," the Dark one concluded, but his hand still remained on the Sindar's shoulder, and Legolas did not pretend this was just a passing gap in Sauron's presence; Daroth was holding the Dark Lord at bay, giving the younger Elf time to draw his breath.

Sounds were coming from the outside, increasing like waves, then quieting down again. Legolas had been listening to it for some time, and he was getting curious. "What is going on outside?"

"Annatar is about to address the army. That has not happened often, so the men are looking forward to it."

Legolas tried to decide if the other sounded pleased with this – or disdained. It was hard to tell. "Then why would they all serve her so willingly, if she has not shown herself before?"

"For those who used to serve Sauron, it does not take much to gather under the right flag. They _know_ where their allegiances lie. They know who she is – they can feel it."

"And their obedience is blind," Legolas decided. It was pitiful – and somewhat admirable as well. How could so many be so alike in mind? If only the people beyond the borders of these dark lands could be as easily swayed… Perhaps it was this that made the difference between the free people and dark servants.

Daroth smiled, and Legolas narrowed his eyes to the other's mirror image. He did not find any of this amusing, but then, their perspectives were a little different.

"It is time," the Dark Elf stated after a while, removing his hand, and Legolas felt a cold-hot rush flooding back into his consciousness. It always hurt the worst when Sauron re-established his control, suspiciously guarding his ground as if he was not certain whether or not he lost it. Legolas never tried to fight him back too hard because he was afraid to reveal more to Sauron than he already unconsciously was; he did not think that it would be good for the former Dark Lord to know about Daroth's effect on him, especially considering that Annatar was still connected to his father, and Legolas' life depended on her good graces.

Legolas stood up slowly, feeling strange, but by now he had already got used to feeling unsteady and light-headed. It was as if his body was no longer his alone to control. As long as he was doing whatever was agreeable to Sauron, everything went well, but beyond that even breathing was hard sometimes. The delicate chain around his neck seemed to weigh much more at moments like those, burning his skin without actually leaving a mark, seeping through to his very bones. "Where are we going?" Legolas asked, assuming Daroth had come to collect him.

"Outside. Fresh air will do you good," the Dark Elf explained simply, smoothing Legolas' robes as if to make sure he was appropriately dressed. Legolas held back a shiver, then stepped around to face him. It was always hard to look at those midnight dark eyes; it seemed that while he was getting used to the darkness around him, the evil in Daroth was still distinct from it. Like a completely different shade.

Daroth led the way to the door, opening it. Legolas was mildly surprised that it was not locked, but then, perhaps they did not expect he would attempt to escape. Hesitantly he followed the other into a stone corridor. The floor was cold and rough beneath his feet – he had not been given shoes to wear, either accidentally or on purpose. While it was unpleasant, it also gave him something to focus his attention on, especially when they walked outside and a sickening wave passed through him as his eyes pierced the looming darkness to see the scurrying creatures spread all around the broken tower of Barad-dûr.

On top of winding, cracked stairs stood a figure clad in black, and while Legolas' eyes could not recognise the person, he felt a harsh tug inside his chest. Sauron knew his daughter, and Legolas stumbled forward, only Daroth's hand on his elbow keeping him upright.

Annatar turned to gaze at him when Legolas finally fell to his knees slightly behind her. His eyes may have been playing tricks on him, but he was quite certain she frowned.

"He does not appear as strong to me as you believed he would be," she noted after a moment, stepping forward and lifting the Elf's chin with her hand. The delicate pressure of her nails against his throat made Legolas shudder. The darkness was almost overpowering now, Sauron's weight upon his spirit unbearable.

"He is fighting. That is why he appears so weak. Soon enough, his body and mind shall submit to Sauron, and he will feel better," Daroth promised, his hand upon Legolas' head.

Annatar nodded thoughtfully, then turned again to look upon her army. "Raise him. I will not have him appear weak now."

Legolas was shaking as he rose, his legs aching from the attempt to keep himself standing. Daroth was not helping him to his surprise, although the other kept hovering near. The Prince swallowed, trying to gather the tattered remnants of his free will. He was not going to bow before her, or Sauron… He was going to endure this, or die trying. He would _not_ stop fighting.

Annatar raised her hands, and every living creature on the plateau before them stopped moving. Every sound faded. Even the wind was holding its breath. "Faithful servants," she began, voice unnaturally booming off the mountainside. It was as if every rock magnified it instead of swallowing the words to the darkness. "Brave warriors of the East," she went on, her words welcomed by a roar from below. "Long you have waited. Your faith has been strong, and today it shall be rewarded! The West will shake in fear – and they should; long we have waited for our vengeance, to take what they took from us. Their eternal glory will be shattered and ruin shall befall them." Another roar and a clash of metal met her words.

Legolas wondered if the response would have been the same even if Annatar had proclaimed the time of Darkness was over.

"They tore apart this land, and they rid us from our strength. No more," the leader of the Dark army went on. When she looked to the side, gazing at her forces, Legolas could see satisfaction on her features. This was no doubt a moment she had been waiting for.

Annatar gestured with her hand, and Legolas felt a hot rush in his mind. He barely even noticed as he stepped beside her, and she laid her hands on his shoulders. He knew she was smiling; he could feel it. His head was spinning, vision narrowing, but his body stood there, rigid, and for the first time in his life it felt as if he had no control over it at all.

The daughter of Sauron slid her hands to his front, then parted his robes enough to expose the piece of the Palantír. "Hail your Master reborn!" Her words were loud, but they seemed miles away to Legolas' ears. Everything around him was drowning away as the Orcs, Trolls, Men, and other servants of the dark cheered below them. The stone on the chain flared, and Legolas was certain his heart would give out.

Then, sharper than anything in his life, he could hear Daroth snort. He turned his head to look at the other, and saw the brief, private look of disdain on the Dark Elf's face. The world around him was coiling in shadows, unclear, but the other was as clear as a bright Moon on the summer sky. Legolas blinked, and it was gone; his vision was blurred again, and his head was filled with words and echoes of Sauron's dark malice. The dark army roared even louder, and Legolas broke out in cold sweat. His body was shaking now, and he felt the world starting to slip away completely.

And then, suddenly, there was a hand on his face. Like a phantom's touch, he could feel it, cool yet warm, comforting and so _strong_ it made his head reel. He looked up, and saw the brown eyes of his Guardian. In the darkness, he shone like a star, and Legolas basked in his strength.

"_Be strong,"_ Rafél told him, his lips moving out of synch with his voice, which Legolas could clearly hear in his head over the mutterings of the Dark Lord.

Sauron's attention shifted. Legolas felt as if his head would explode, and when he blinked his eyes, Rafél's image began to fade before him. _"Rafél!"_ he shouted after him, desperately trying to reach for him, but he was gone, and when Legolas finally opened his eyes for real, he was on his knees on the ground. The army was still making noises, the sound deafening.

Above the roar, though, he could feel a familiar voice of a Man speaking to Annatar who stood few feet from him: "We caught them passing Gorgoroth. Elves and Men with some Dwarves and a couple of _banakil_."

"Hobbits?" Annatar mused.

"And a Wizard," the Man, Tzórag, added.

"Mithrandir," Annatar seethed, but when she looked down at Legolas, he knew she was not upset by this new turn of events. "Come, Prince. Let us go welcome your friends. My father is most eager to meet the ones who tried to destroy him. But then, you already know that, do you not?"

Legolas closed his eyes against the sudden stab of pain in his head. Yes, Sauron had waited for this for a long time.

_to be continued…_


	47. Chapter 45: “For Future, For Freedom”

**Author's Note:** If you have ignored certain parts of the story's warnings, let me say this much: in this chapter, there shall be a major character death. Do not kill me for it. Read if you dare.

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 45: "For Future, For Freedom"**

* * *

They descended down chipped, broken stone steps. Each took them closer to the swarming masses of the Dark army, and Legolas could not stop the nervous twinge in his stomach. Their darkness did not touch him – or then it was nothing compared to the darkness now harboured within him, slithering across his mind.

Daroth had a hold of his arm, either to prevent him from slipping and falling, or from attempting some kind of escape. Not that there was anywhere to go. When they finally stepped to even ground, the stone and ash unpleasant against Legolas' bare feet, the other still maintained his hold.

The Orcs and Men parted before them, yet an excited roar filled the air, welcoming Annatar. Legolas could feel Sauron's distaste at this, but the Dark Lord waited, content so far; he was not willing to share his power, but perhaps Annatar being his flesh and blood…

Legolas had no desire to dwell on those thoughts, and there was no need to: just a moment later Legolas felt Rafél's presence like a beacon he could not see, but knew it waited somewhere in this darkness. Closer and closer they went, and although Legolas knew that being caught was a great failure on their part, he could not deny that he was looking forward to meeting his friends again.

Just as they were about to stop, Legolas' eyes spotting a familiar group of faces, Daroth slid his hand off Legolas' arm while his other one thrust something between the Elf's fingers. Legolas did not move or indicate his shock, but he could feel the familiar edges of the little jewel bird.

"For hope," Daroth muttered, then moved back, apparently not planning to meet the prisoners.

Legolas looked after him until he was pushed forward by an Orc tailing him, and his sharp blue eyes turned to meet those of his friends. He wished they had not come, but maybe there was still hope…

He tightened his grip around the jewel and waited since there was nothing else for him to do; Sauron was already pushing to the surface, and all Legolas could do was fight to stay in control – which he knew to be a losing battle.

**

* * *

**

Gimli looked around as they were escorted closer to the broken remnants of Barad-dûr. The Dark creatures swarming around them cast suspicious glances at their direction, but it was no different from the loathsome stares that the Elves gave them in return. Right this moment, Gimli felt proud to be walking in such company; they were not scurrying in fear, but brave even when facing an enemy much more powerful than themselves.

"Do not look so smug, Master Dwarf," Haldir warned him. "We are in a tight situation here."

"Then we should make the best of it," Gimli retorted.

A cold smile twisted the otherwise emotionless face of the Galadhrim, and Gimli felt that they had come a long way since they first met on the border of Lothlórien.

They were ordered to stop, and since none of them had any desire to be any closer to Barad-dûr than they had to, there were no disagreements. The continuous clang of metal against metal went on around them, restless pacing of the Orcs making it hard to say how many there were. Then suddenly the masses parted, and a small company came towards them. An evil so deep approached that even Gimli could feel it, all the way to his bones. Beside him he could feel Haldir flinch, and he briefly grasped the Elf's arm, making him look down in shock.

"Easy, lad. We have to be strong," Gimli needlessly told him.

Annoyance disappeared from Haldir's noble features as he nodded and then looked up again, standing tall beside the Dwarf. Gimli shifted his feet further apart, preparing himself, letting go of the Elf. He may have handed his weapons to his enemies, but if there was a fight to be had…

Suddenly he felt warmth like the spring rays of the Sun upon his chest, and he gazed down in wonderment. In the darkness of Mordor the bird jewel shone like a lost star when he revealed it. Gimli looked up with a shocked gasp, and true enough, amidst the group that had just stopped before them stood his friend, his pale fingers clutching onto his own necklace with pained desperation.

"Legolas," Gimli whispered. He could barely recognise his friend! He looked sick and tired, even worse than when the Balrog had wounded him. Robed in black, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, he was a mere ghost of himself. Yet in his grasp the little stone bird shone.

The Elves around him shifted, and Gimli knew they were prepared to fight each of these Orcs and foul beasts if that meant getting their Prince back. Gandalf stood before them, but his attention was on Rafél, as if waiting for his sign.

"Defiant to the end, I see, Mithrandir," spoke one of the arrivals, and it was not a rough voice of some Dark servant, but that of a woman. Gimli frowned, and looked upon her, feeling the darkness she carried. She let out a chuckle, but suddenly stopped and her eyes fell upon the shining jewel upon Gimli's chest. Her dark gaze moved onto Legolas, and she ripped the necklace from his hands. "A worthless trinket!" she snapped, throwing it away. Aragorn barely caught it before it hit the stones, and handed it over to Gimli before directing his eyes to the woman once again.

She was seething, looking at her companions, but then seemed to forget about the incident and turned back to them. "Welcome to Mordor, great commanders of the West. I see few of you are missing, but I assure you: they shall meet me soon enough. As for you…" She looked at them, one after another. Merry and Pippin shrunk away beneath her stare, and that seemed to please her immensely. "Ah, the great Halflings that brought down the Dark Lord," she stated with venom in her words. "With cowardice they carried out their mission, I believe."

"Careful," Gandalf muttered, "or you shall meet the end same as He."

She laughed. "Do you not know who I am, Mithrandir? I think you do; why else would they have bothered to send you back over the sea that protects the sacred lands of the Elves?" Once again she looked upon them, her dark eyes stopping as they returned to Gandalf's. "It seems you have left your friends uninformed. Do you not trust them? So much for the divine bond between Istari and the lesser races."

Gimli sputtered and gripped at air where his axe usually would have been. A hand stopped him from moving, and he looked up at Haldir whose face was tense yet surprisingly calm. Gimli knew the Elf's temper was tested such as his, but the Eldar were blessed with patience greater than his. Either way, he waited.

"Let there be no secrets between us," the woman went on. "I am Annatar, daughter of Sauron, and very soon you shall feel my father's wrath first hand."

The look of dismay that passed the crowd was almost identical. Gandalf was the only one who seemed that this was no news to him – and Rafél; Gimli wondered if the Guardian had heard anything at all because he just kept his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet, his face impassive.

"Is this some jest?" Asthaldo muttered.

"I fear she is being quite honest with us," Gandalf spoke at last.

Annatar's face was smug.

"What have you done with Prince Legolas?" Shannai demanded loudly, uncaring of the looks cast his way. The Elf was standing with restlessness written all over his face, and Gimli silently applauded to his impatience; he also wanted to hear an answer to that question.

"Ah, your friend here as proven himself most valuable," Annatar smiled, glancing at Legolas who shivered at her words, closing his eyes. "He is repaying for his deeds against Sauron with the noblest of deeds: he is carrying the weight of the Dark Lord's powers."

The air stirred momentarily, and the sky seemed to darken even more. A whisper circled around them in words of a language Gimli recognised to be that of the Dark Land.

Legolas gasped and sank to his knees, fists clenched and his pale skin almost as white as the snow on the great peaks of Caradhras. Annatar glanced at him and looked almost disappointed. "One would have expected more from the _royal_ blood of the Sindar. But it would seem even that line has weakened."

"Then let him go if he is of no use to you!" Merry shouted, his voice shaking.

"Only the Dark Lord shall decide when his services are no longer needed," Annatar hissed. She slid a hand over to Legolas' head and gripped the golden hair, wrenching his head up. "The chain around his neck cannot be cut, and as long as it remains intact, so do my father's strength that I have long worked to collect. Unless you plan beheading your dear Prince, I believe we have nothing further to discuss on this matter."

"Wretch," someone stated, loud and clear, and Gimli half expected it to be one of the Men, but his amazement had no limits when he watched Rafél stand up straight, his inner light unaffected by the darkness around him. Annatar's eyes flashed, but beside her Legolas lifted his head, and for a moment his eyes were clear again, looking upon his Guardian.

"You think you have power?" Annatar demanded.

"I have withstood the long darkness of Angband. What you create here is nothing but a cloud passing the sky filled with sunshine," Rafél stated coldly. "Let my Prince go."

"I think you heard my terms on the subject."

"Indeed I did," the Guardian replied, but it seemed it was of no interest to him what she had said. He moved in a flash, grasping at the Orc closest to him, and wrenched the filthy creature's blade from it. He sliced the Orc almost in two and moved onto the next. Gimli blinked and roared, the Elves around him moving to attack. The Orcs were too slow to react, and this was not what they had expected to happen with their commander present. Not that Gimli cared: the pleasure of seeing their blood flow was just as great nonetheless.

He wrestled an Orc of his own size that was carrying a suitable looking axe, then began to look for his own weapons. Gimli did not trust that Orc steel could withstand the work he intended to put it in. Perhaps it was luck, but two of Aragorn's Rangers took down a group of Orcs that had been holding their weapons, and Gimli collected his axes from the corpses with a pleased smile. The wood and steel felt good in his hands, and with a roar he charged the next Dark creature he found coming his way.

When he once halted to see what the rest of their group was doing, he saw that Gandalf had regained his staff and was now facing Annatar. Around them Men were fighting, and the Hobbits stood side by side with Shannai and the Three Cousins of Hithsîr. It was a marvellous, heartfelt moment, and Gimli would have liked to cherish it longer – only there was axe work to be done.

An Orc jumped at his back, but before Gimli could grab at it, an arrow hit the creature, the sharp end protruding from its body just beside Gimli's ear. The Dwarf spun around, finding that Haldir had got his hands on a bow.

With a curt nod to the Galadhrim, Gimli returned to the battle, trusting his friends to handle themselves.

**

* * *

**

"You cannot possibly think you can win," Annatar snarled.

"I was sent here for a reason," Gandalf replied. "I will see to your and Sauron's ultimate destruction even if it was the last thing I did on this earth!"

"I hope you believe it, old man, because I will take a great amount of pleasure seeing you fall," the woman stated with glee.

Gandalf waited no more. He raised his staff, voice booming over the noise of the battle, and a flash of light surrounded him. The woman screeched, then retaliated; it seemed she was indeed in possession of power herself.

Aragorn watched them as long as he dared, but eventually Elladan tapped his shoulder, signalling that he was needed in the battle. They spun around and Aragorn slid Andúril smoothly through the head of an advancing enemy. He pulled his weapon free when the dead Orc began to sag to the ground, then whirled to meet his next opponent.

"We are slightly outnumbered," Elrohir commented.

"Glad you noticed," Elladan shot back.

"Just fight you two," Aragorn gasped, then dodged a blow from a Troll's club. Something rattled, and he could see one of his Men falling before the blow, armour rattling as he crashed to the ground. Seconds later several feet trampled him, but the Man did not move. Aragorn felt rage swell in his chest, and with a roar he moved at the Troll. He got only few good slashes at the creature before suddenly there was a flash of gold, and someone grabbed at him. He swung, but a strong hand caught his sword arm. "Hold it," Haldir's familiar voice told him.

As the Elf spoke, the Troll was approached by his brothers. Rúmil and Orophin circled the creature, then attacked simultaneously from opposite sides, slashing at the slower, bigger enemy. Orcs were hovering nearby, but they kept a wary eye on the Troll and the swinging club, afraid to come closer. At the same time Khai and Ithika shot their arrows, making the Troll stumble. One more arrow, and the creature came down, Orophin's sword finishing the job.

Aragorn grinned, and even Haldir looked pleased.

"Useless Orc crap," the Galadhrim swore as he tried to yank his sword free of the Troll.

"Worry not, Orophin; we shall get you another," Haldir told him, and moved against the next onslaught of enemies. Three strikes, and he threw his brother a new weapon so that he too could join the battle.

Aragorn felt like joining them, but took a look around first. It seemed that most of the army was still waiting to attack. Perhaps their orders were not to kill them, or then they believed in their superior numbers. Either way, it seemed that Aragorn and his friends still stood a chance.

Several dozen feet away from him there was a flash of light, and a ring of fighting warriors flew off their feet as something like a ripple of air left Gandalf's staff. Annatar barely swayed on her feet, though, and Aragorn wished his old friend would find a way to bring her down, soon; their luck would not hold forever.

**

* * *

**

Thaíly had fought more battles in his life than he could remember – not that he cared for the exact number – but this had to be among the first when he was actually fighting _with_ someone. Naturally he would have preferred to take off before they even got caught, but for some reason he had stayed with the group, and now he had to act accordingly.

He stayed close to Rafél, knowing it gave him a tactical advantage; the Elf was aware of Legolas' whereabouts on the battlefield, and he was old enough to know how to fight without foolishness although his thoughts no doubt were conflicted. Legolas would not be released if they lost this battle, though, so it motivated them both to try just a bit harder.

The Wizard was definitely putting up a good show, but Thaíly hoped he would make some sort of decisive move soon. The enemy seemed reluctant to engage in the battle, but eventually that would change, and not all of them had a magic staff to protect themselves.

Sword in one hand and knife in the other – his own weapons, which he had fought back from an Orc that had made the mistake of taking them – he slashed at one enemy after another. It seemed he was the least attractive prey, and so he had time to watch Rafél's back whenever the other got attacked from too many sides at once.

Steadily the Orcs kept coming, as if realising they were supposed to fight after all. Either there was some confusion in the ranks, or then they had been ordered to stand back and watch until it looked like the captives were winning. It made no sense – until there was a screech of the Nazgûl in the distance, and Thaíly raised his head long enough to see a tenth robed figure approaching the Nine.

"Ah, our mysterious friend reappears," Thaíly said out loud.

Rafél looked up, taking in the scene. "He stood with the group earlier."

"And it seems he is quite comfortable watching from the distance – with the Wraiths. They would be much more useful battling us," Thaíly observed.

"You can go and ask them if they would care to join us," Rafél suggested tightly, dodging a sword aimed at him, then returned the blow with much more precision. When Thaíly watched him fight, he could see whom Legolas had learned some of his moves from.

Then suddenly Rafél stopped, staring across the Dark army at his Prince. Legolas had been moved aside when the battle began. Thaíly did not know why the Elf had stopped fighting, but he assumed it was something important; Legolas was staring back at his Guardian with an expression of determination and desperate sorrow.

"Get him," Rafél finally hissed through his teeth.

Thaíly wondered if it was an order or a suggestion.

"Legolas!" Rafél shouted the next instant, and dropping all caution the Elf dashed towards his protégé, swinging and pushing at the Orcs on his way.

Behind him, Thaíly could hear Gimli's voice rising into a similar shout, and after a moment the Dwarf and the King of Gondor dashed past him.

A hundred yards away from them, Legolas was on the move, and finally Thaíly understood the distress of the three warriors. He knew they could not make it in time, though, so instead he looked over at the tenth rider, and he was not completely sure, but perhaps it was a smile the other wore on his surprisingly fair face.

**

* * *

**

The roar of Sauron's thoughts in his head was deafening. Focusing on his own existence was hard now that Rafél no longer showed him the way; the fight was stealing his Guardian's focus, and Legolas knew he was on his own. He wished nothing more than to join his friends in the battle, but instead he was dragged away from them, and there was not enough strength left in him to battle both the Dark Lord and his minions at the same time.

The longer he watched the battle unfold, the worse it twisted his heart. They could not win. There was no way. They were ridiculously outnumbered, and Gandalf seemed to be in trouble matching his powers against Annatar's. Sauron seethed with satisfaction, and Legolas may have become physically ill had he possessed enough control over his body.

As it was, he merely watched, flinching whenever one of the Men or his friends fell to the ground. Most of them got back up to their feet, but not everyone.

Legolas' desperation grew, but he did not dare to reach out for Rafél; the other needed his wits to survive. He needed to overcome this on his own… Legolas halted in mid-thought, shocked. He had barely noticed, but all of a sudden he was able to focus again. It was as if Sauron had left… But no, he recognised the feeling. Looking up, he gazed across the field, and standing in the shadow of Barad-dûr he could find Daroth. The Dark Elf's eyes were on him, their cool weight undeniable, but that was not among Legolas' concerns: for the time being Sauron was pushed to the back, and his mind was free.

Part of Legolas urged him to break free and join the fight, but it would not make a difference. Sooner or later Sauron would return from the edge of his consciousness, and it would be all for nothing.

_Think. Why is he doing this? Why now?_ Legolas looked at Daroth, then at his friends fighting for their lives. The clash of metal, the smell of blood and pain… it all seemed oddly distant to him, as if he was not part of that world. His eyes found Gimli, and in the burst of light coming from Gandalf's staff he saw the jewel bird flicker.

_"For hope,"_ had Daroth muttered to him when he handed him the necklace. _"It is your mission to destroy them both. Your friends cannot help you now; Sauron is bound to you and your life. But you…"_ The Dark Elf's words returned to him, clear and more significant than before. He had given the jewel to him as a sign; to not lose hope, to not lose his aim…

Legolas looked at Daroth one more time, then to the opposite direction: beyond the swarming mass of Orcs stood an emptiness where the ground fell into a gorge that had formed when Sauron's power was broken. It had swallowed most of the tarnished, poisoned land before the Dark Tower, all the way to where the Black Gate had once stood before falling to its ruin.

It would be a long fall…

Legolas swallowed, then looked at the battle again. His guards were lax next to him, much more interested in the ongoing activities, and the Elf suspected they presumed he would be too weak to fight them. On the far side of the battlefield, Legolas could see Tzórag gathering his forces. When they charged, the battle would be over once and for all. They would kill Legolas' friends or capture most of them, but either way there was no escape for any of them. They had come all this way to rescue him, only to realise that they could not, even if they freed him…

_"Sauron is bound to you and your life."_

Legolas knew what he must do, and although the decision pained him, it was the right one. For the freedom of Middle-earth, and the future of his friends, he had to do this. It was an honourable decision. He only wished he could have said goodbye to all of them, Rafél especially. It felt like he was sneaking out in the dead of a night, leaving him behind…

At that moment, the Guardian raised his head and looked straight at Legolas. It felt as if he was standing right next to him, the warmth of his presence pushing away the coldness in Legolas' heart.

_"What are you doing?"_ Rafél asked, his words soft in Legolas' mind. They soothed the pain Sauron had caused – and would cause if Legolas failed.

_"I am doing the right thing. The only thing…"_

Rafél said something out loud to Thaíly who was hovering next to him, then turned back, but Legolas knew he could not listen, or his resolve would fail and ruin would befall them all. For he could feel that Annatar's words were true, and as long as he lived, no one could touch Sauron's power hiding deep within his immortal body and soul.

Legolas sprang to the side, dislocating the hold of the Orcs around him. They tried to grab at him, but their nails failed to more than scratch his skin. Weapons were drawn, but they were too afraid to attack him.

The stones were sharp beneath his feet, but the pain was something he could withstand. It gave him speed and determination, and made him push aside Dark creatures that stood in his way.

"Legolas!"

He could not stop. It had to be done this way, for he could already feel Sauron surfacing and he had to be quick. He could not allow the Dark Lord to take over.

_"Legolas…"_

He almost stumbled at Rafél's voice, so near, so soft. Afraid. Rafél was never afraid. Not even when he had been facing his own death before the walls of Helm's Deep. But now, it was there, in his heart and soul and Legolas knew he was to blame for it.

The edge was so close now. He broke thought the final rank of enemies and pushed towards it. _")Goheno nin(,"_ he whispered in his mind, holding onto their bond for one last time. It gave him strength and speed, and even while Sauron clawed at his mind, aware of his impending demise, Legolas did not give in. _For all my friends, with whom I fought such great battles._ To never feel Aragorn's strong grip upon his arm, or Gimli's rough voice giving him comfort no other could match…

_"Las, daro!"_ Rafél still reached out for him, despair filling his mind. The knowledge that he was going to _fail_.

But Legolas was too close now, and he knew he was doing the only right thing. This was what Daroth had been preparing him for. Twisted as it was, the Dark One had believed in him; that he would destroy Annatar's carefully laid plans. Legolas would finish what he had sworn to do since he was a child: to destroy Dark Lord.

"Legolas!" Gimli's voice boomed over all else.

Legolas counted the final steps, seeing the edge, and the darkness below. Rock and stone. Before the final leap, his thoughts turned to Rafél, knowing he would understand. He had fought enough wars to know that sometimes, victory did not come without sacrifice. _")Gerich veleth nín(,"_ Legolas whispered in his mind, remembering the warmth of his beloved's embrace, the trust, the strength, the love.

Ground fell away beneath him and he flung himself into the air, like a squirrel bracing itself to a flight from one branch to another. But there was no branch to reach for, and the air whipped past him. He could feel Rafél's scream, then Sauron's, and a wave of heat rushed through his body.

Then came the darkness.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**)Sindarin(: - Westron:**  
_Goheno nin_ – Forgive me  
_Gerich veleth nín_ – You have my love


	48. Chapter 46: Tears of Love and Sorrow

")…(" = Sindarin

* * *

**Chapter 46: Tears of Love and Sorrow**

* * *

Rafél knew he should have seen the decision being made before Legolas took action. He _knew_ he should have felt it, like a stab in the heart. Like the tearing pain he felt right now, trying to reach the younger Elf yet knowing he would be too late.

Too many Orcs stood between them, and Rafél was weary from the battle and trying to give Legolas enough strength to survive the darkness within and without.

_")Goheno nin. Gerich veleth nín.("_

Legolas' words echoed in his head, cutting to his soul like a blade of an Orc drew a line across his arm as he dashed past the vile creature. His mind was no longer with the battle, though. All he could think of was that Legolas was going to end his life in an attempt to save them all, and Rafél was going to fail in the promise he had given to Thranduil long ago: to protect his youngest son with his life.

He had failed.

"Legolas!" Rafél shouted the instant his protégé jumped off the cliff. It was like the air had been driven out of his lungs all at once, something clutching at his heart like a clawed hand, trying to rip it away from him…

A flash of dark, ugly green light tinged with fiery red shot up from the gorge Legolas had just fallen in. A roar like thunder filled the air and the ground itself shook for an instant before everything fell silent again. Several hundred feet from him Annatar screamed. The light was slowly fading, disappearing completely by the time Rafél reached the edge.

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and brought them both down. "Stop," Aragorn grunted, dragging Rafél back down to the ground when he tried to get up. He was so close now…

"Foolish Elf!" Another set of hands – stronger this time – joined the Man's feeble attempts to hold him down. "It will do us no good if you throw yourself after him!" Gimli roared, his rough voice bringing Rafél's mind back from the dark abyss he had momentarily lost himself in.

They were all lying in a heap on the edge of the gorge. The Man and the Dwarf held Rafél back until he slowly nodded. Aragorn released him, shaking a little. Gimli just clutched onto Rafél's tunic, his deep-set eyes glancing towards the emptiness beside them, but he did not take the final step to actually see…

"You can let go of him, Gimli," Aragorn finally said, and Rafél could tell it was an effort for the Man to keep his voice steady.

The Dwarf's wide shoulders trembled a little, and his grip tightened around the handle of his axe. "They will pay…" he muttered.

Rafél would have loved to agree, but he knew it would not change anything. He closed his eyes instead, yearning to look down and see for himself, but he dared not. His heart knew Legolas was gone. Sauron too, his powers broken to the four winds. But even in triumph Rafél tasted the bitterness of failure.

He had seen Legolas come to this world. But the first time he held the youngest Prince of Mirkwood had been the most special moment of all; he could remember when Legolas' mother first handed him over for Rafél to hold, the bright eyes looking up at him, the soft, warm little weight in his arms. He had been nothing but a baby.

They had learned together, practised together, and gone through more than Rafél had ever expected when he promised his King and Queen to become Legolas' Guardian. There had been dark, evil times when they had both almost lost faith in each other, but there had also been times of trust, and later love.

Love that now gnawed at his insides like a lonely call of a swan that lost its mate…

"I am sorry," Aragorn spoke softly, and Rafél opened his eyes, then picked himself up. He did not answer. Gimli was watching him, as was the King of Gondor, but Rafél paid no heed to them. His mind and heart were numb, filled with rage and sorrow deeper than any other creature could ever understand. He would use those emotions to fuel his will to fight, and perhaps if the Valar were merciful, he would die today.

Only… it seemed there was something wrong with the battle.

**

* * *

**

Thaíly could tell something very interesting was happening.

The moment Legolas plunged himself into the depths and Sauron's power cracked like a dry stick, it seemed Annatar lost her concentration. She screamed, cursed Gandalf with a promise of vengeance, then disappeared. Thaíly had many tricks of dark and magic, but never this. Gandalf too seemed a little taken aback by her swift exit.

At the same time the Dark army hesitated. They were still many in number, and could have easily defeated their enemies even if their commander was gone, but it seemed someone had a different plan: Thaíly watched how one of the Orc commanders blew a horn, the sound echoing from the mountainside, and so the Dark vermin began to crawl away.

"This is different," he mused to himself, then found the Nazgûl and their fair friend and had his answer: he did not know who exactly that Tenth Rider was, but it seemed he was not interested in staying to fight after Annatar had disappeared. The command to retreat must have come from him because the Men led by Tzórag looked confused, yet grudgingly followed the rest of their army.

"What are they doing?" one of the Men of Gondor shouted.

"We won!" one of the Hobbits replied.

Thaíly would have not bet his life on that, but for now it seemed the battle was over. "I suggest we do not stay to find out if they change their minds," he said out loud as Gandalf walked by him, leaning heavily on his staff. It seemed his battle against the daughter of Sauron had drained him.

The Wizard nodded a little distractedly. His blue eyes were staring towards Aragorn and Gimli who were holding Rafél back from taking off after the retreating Orcs. It seemed the Dwarf would have preferred to follow the Guardian's example, but perhaps he had some wit in his head after all.

With a shake of his head, Thaíly strode over to the trio and seized Rafél by the front of his tunic. The other halted, staring him in the eye, and Thaíly braced himself just in case the Elf would decide to run him through now that the only thing that had ever united their interests was gone. "It will not change anything," Thaíly hissed. "Honour Legolas' decision. His choice spared a King's life today, not to mention many of his friends – perhaps all of us. Had any of us possessed the power to break Sauron's hold of him, he would have done differently, but…"

Rafél jerked his head aside, not looking at him. Thaíly could hear his heart pounding frantically, then slow down a little. "Let go of me, filthy half-blooded monster," he finally snapped, shaking Thaíly's hand off him.

The half-vampire smiled. "I will take offence another time. Now we have more important things to do."

Rafél did not respond as he strode away, making his way smoothly past the carcasses of the dead Orcs.

"That went well," Aragorn observed dryly. "You do realise our friend just died? I cannot imagine the pain Rafél is enduring." His words got more heated by the second.

"Getting himself killed over it is pointless. At least before he has seen through with his final duties, which is to honour his Prince and recover his body," Thaíly noted, taking after the Elf who was looking for a way down the gorge's side.

Silence followed him as Aragorn and Gimli seemed to have no reply to offer him in return.

**

* * *

**

While the Men of Gondor collected their own dead and piled up the enemy carcasses to burn them, the Elves found a cracked path down to the bottom of the gorge. They helped their mortal friends down the most perilous steps, but it seemed the light was gone from their eyes and they just did their duty without any heart in it.

Gandalf knew they felt the weight of Legolas' loss heavily upon their spirits. This had been a terrible end for their attempted rescue mission, and while Sauron was finally gone, he still knew it was only a matter of time before Annatar would return. Until then they would have to honour their dead and prepare for the inevitable retribution of their enemies.

They reached the bottom, and very slowly moved forward. A breeze brushed against the walls of the gorge, creating a lonely howl that seemed to precede them as they walked. Then finally the Elves stopped, forcing their friends to follow their lead.

Only Rafél walked forward, and Gandalf swallowed through the tightness of his throat. Among the jagged rocks lay a body, still and silent. The wind had ceased, as if to lament with them.

Shannai was sobbing which made the Hobbits look at him in mild shock; the rest of the Elves were clearly saddened, but there were no tears in their eyes. Gandalf knew there might be none – at least not before they were in the silent solitude of their own kin.

Rafél knelt beside the body, and Gandalf muttered a quick prayer to the gods, then strode forth. The Elf glanced at him, his hand resting on Legolas' forehead. Gandalf went down beside him, leaning heavily on his staff.

Legolas' skin was deathly pale, his eyes closed, and Gandalf had seen enough death in his life to recognise it now. The youngest of Thranduil's sons was indeed gone. There was no blood, though, and Gandalf could not see that there was any damage that had come to Legolas' body. That was Sauron's doing, no doubt, but a cold comfort nonetheless.

Reaching out his hand, Gandalf touched the ashen remains of the necklace the Dark Lord's power had been tied to. It broke apart at his touch, sliding between his fingers like fine sand. "Dust," Gandalf muttered, then looked at Rafél. The Guardian's face was impassive, but a struggle raged inside him. One of his hands rested upon Legolas' unmoving ones, as if trying to find some strength in the touch. Gandalf laid a hand on the Guardian's arm, then got up and joined the others.

Gimli, who was clutching his axe in a deadly grip, was making small suffocating noises, no doubt trying to hold onto his emotions. Merry and Pippin were hugging Shannai, crying. Aragorn stood apart from others, and Gandalf could sense his dark thoughts. The Man had lost too much since all this began, and the Wizard knew this was a trying time for him; first Arwen and Éowyn, and now Legolas…

"We should head out," Thaíly suggested from the back of the group, and although his voice had lost some of its edge, he still got many murderous looks in return.

It seemed to prompt Rafél into action, though. The Elf took off his cloak and wrapped it around Legolas' form, as if to somehow shelter him from the world, then picked up the body. Everyone stepped aside to let him pass. Gimli finally let out a sob. Gandalf stepped up to him, clasping his shoulder, and together they followed the Guardian.

Behind them Aragorn let out a howl of pain, and Gandalf turned just in time to see the King of Gondor driving his fist against the rocks before Elrohir and Elladan pulled him back, holding tight onto the Man before his struggles ceased. "He would want you to mourn him, but not like this. He gave his life for all of us. Honour that," Elladan told his foster brother.

"It is so unfair," Fundal muttered, his gruff voice shaking.

"Does not feel much like a victory," Pippin joined him.

Shannai just sniffled, earning a look from Thrénandu. The green eyes lit up for an instant, a defiant look on his face. "Do not tell me not to mourn my friend! This is not how he should have died. No one should," he ended with a whisper, looking at Rafél's back.

They climbed out of the gorge without another word. The enemy had disappeared, but the Elves still took turns scouting the path ahead of them. When the night grew closer the Eldar began to sing, their fair voices sad and mournful. Even though most of their companions did not understand the words it brought tears to many an eye, yet their steps were a little lighter.

In the morning a surprise awaited them: Dínnor came back from his scouting round with Haldir, informing them that a group of Rohirrim was approaching with some riders from Gondor. That raised the mood of the group, promising them a safer trip home.

"I hope they brought spare horses," Elrohir noted.

"I thought you Elves liked walking," Gimli snorted.

"I am only a Half-elf, mind you, and besides, I was thinking of your comfort as well, Master Dwarf," Elrohir quipped back, then dashed off with his twin to see if indeed they would be done walking.

An hour later the sons of Elrond returned, four dozen Men following them on horses. Banners of Gondor and Rohan flew in the air, tugged gently by the wind.

Éomer and Faramir came forth, and Aragorn moved to greet them.

"What happened here?" the King of the Mark questioned. "We passed a hundred Orcs, but they were too busy running away to even stop to give us trouble." His men let out a roar of laughter.

"Did you find Lord Legolas?" Faramir asked instead.

Aragorn's face must have darkened, and when he glanced back where the Elves still hovered by Rafél and their dead companion, Faramir seemed to understand. He bowed his head, which in turn prompted Éomer to follow his earlier line of sight.

"We lost him?" Éomer asked, dismounting and taking off his helmet.

"His life was the cost to bring down Sauron's power," Aragorn replied. Both Men gave him a look, but he shook his head. "I will explain later. After all, the way home is long… Longer still if you did not bring horses with you."

"We have a few," Éomer said stoutly. At once his men brought forth the spare mounts.

"Could be we do not need them after all," Thalión noted, nodding towards the horizon. Something was moving there, and a while later shapes of horses could be seen.

"Did you summon them?" Shannai asked.

"Several times," the Cousin snorted softly. "They were far away; seems like they do not enjoy the shadow of this land more than we do. Good thing Shadowfax is with them: his courage brought them this far."

"Summoning horses…" Adír muttered, but Gimli growled and shook his head, which shut his kinsman up.

Once the horses finally reached them, Thaíly stepped up to his own steed and mounted Morisûl. Everyone looked his way as he straightened his belt. "We will meet again, no doubt," he noted.

"Where will you go?" Shannai asked.

"We do not care," Rafél answered.

Thaíly merely smiled. "I have business elsewhere. Do not lose him this time, Guardian," he remarked finally, then rode away.

"Such an unpleasant character," Haldir noted.

"Useful in a battle, though," Shannai defended the half-vampire. "He risked his neck quite often to save Legolas, I believe, and to bring him information. You should give him some credit."

No one said anything to that.

"Are we ready to head back home?" Gimli asked after a strained silence.

"Yes we are, Master Dwarf," Aragorn sighed, then helped the Dwarf to mount Roheryn before following him up to the horse's back.

Everyone else followed their example, but none made a move to leave before Rafél encouraged Lumén forward, Legolas' still form safely in his arms. Though they had victory, there were no signs of celebration within the riders as they headed north to Gondor.

_to be continued…_


	49. Chapter 47: Si, na vethed

**Chapter 47: _Si, na vethed_**  
**(Here, at the End)**

* * *

**Five days later,  
The Ethir, Gondor**

The smell of the Great Sea hung in the air. After the parched acres of Mordor, the green, moist delta where River Anduin flowed to the Sea was like a blessed land. The day was going to be a beautiful one, the morning sky clear as it reached across the horizon, but Gimli failed to feel its warmth.

At least he was not alone.

The faces around him were all saddened and gloomy. Though it was early, even the Hobbits were already awake, their faces worn after the long travel. They had only briefly stayed in Minas Tirith, mostly to get supplies and patch up the wounded. The Elves had not set foot in the city, choosing to remain with their dead on the edge of Osgiliath. The Men left them alone in quiet reverence, and Gimli knew they were smart to do so.

Now that they had stopped, everyone was hushed and weary. Not many of them could properly rest on horseback, and the Elves had given no indication that they would have preferred to stop to rest, so they had travelled all night. Now the mortals were sitting on a stony patch near the shore, and the Elves had spread out and were building something that looked like small, simple raft.

"They could have asked one of these villages for a boat," Adír muttered, his small eyes sharply following the antics of the Elves.

"Perhaps it is part of some ancient ritual," Pippin suggested.

Gimli shrugged, then turned his head to look towards where Aragorn was standing like a silent guardian beside the body of their friend that lay on the ground, covered with a sheet of silk. He felt his chest tighten. It had been five days, and still he felt the overwhelming sorrow and impotent rage take over whenever he looked at Legolas' lifeless form…

He got up to his feet and walked over to Aragorn. The Man looked down at him and nodded, resting his hand on Gimli's shoulder as the Dwarf stopped beside him. "Are they building a ship?" Gimli joked.

"Nay. I think they are going to send Legolas away to his final journey on that," the Man mused.

"It will not be a very long journey," Gimli observed.

Aragorn smiled sadly. "I am not all that certain it is supposed to be."

Gimli nodded, then looked down. Part of him yearned to pull back the sheet and hope against all hope that Legolas would open his eyes to look at him, to tell it had all been a mistake, but he knew better than to do that. He had looked at him once while they waited by Osgiliath, and it had been embarrassing to have the Elves see him crying. A child of Aulë should not be so week…

But instead of looking askance at him, the Elves had sat by him, eyes mournful, and _sang_. Few of the tunes Gimli even recognised as songs Legolas sometimes sung, and while it did not put his heart to ease, it allowed him to sleep a few hours that night.

He was fairly certain there would be other songs today. Mourning, joyless songs of an immortal soul passing beyond those who loved him…

"We might meet him again," Aragorn said, as if guessing what Gimli had been thinking. But then, they both felt the same pain, and Gimli looked up, nodding.

"Perhaps," he agreed, then looked upon the Sea Legolas had often spoken of with such passion in his eyes. He wondered if the Elf ever got to smell the Sea air, or had it just been a cry of a gull and a whisper in his dreams?

**

* * *

**

The simple raft was ready, and Shannai looked upon it with great sadness.

"How do you bury your dead if there is no sea nearby?" Pippin asked.

"This is not a traditional burial of our people," Shannai explained.

"Oh," the Hobbit breathed. Shannai could feel his eyes moving to look up at him. "Are we being a… distraction? Should we leave?"

The Elf looked down at the two Halflings and smiled. "No, my friends. Legolas would have wished you to be here – all of you. And he would have wanted his burial to be… well, something we all can partake and understand."

"Are you sure that is not what _you_ want?" Gimli noted from where he was standing a few feet away from Legolas' body. The way he was holding his axe was almost like a threat to anyone who would think of desecrating the body of his best friend.

That had actually been Rafél's argument when they rode towards Minas Tirith:

"I will not take the chance that someone desecrates his body on our long ride home," the Guardian had said.

No one argued with him, especially not the mortals who no doubt wished to say farewell to their friend as well. And it was true that their road back to Eryn Lasgalen would have been a long, painful one. It was better to send Legolas to his last journey from here, relatively close to Ithilien where he had dwelled before all this misfortune befell their way.

Rafél and the Cousins walked up to Gimli then, and the Dwarf stepped back with a slight bow of his head. The Elves removed the sheet, then carefully carried their fallen comrade to the raft. Everyone gathered closer, sensing that something was going to happen.

Gandalf muttered a few words of prayer in an ancient language Shannai could not understand, but it sounded fitting. Rafél seemed to approve – he perhaps understood what the Wizard was saying.

Aragorn spoke next, beautiful words in his fluent Elvish; a farewell to a warrior and a dear friend.

"Should we say something?" Merry asked after a moment. He and Pippin glanced at each other, then at everyone else.

"If there is anything your hearts desire to say, then you are welcome to speak," Gandalf said softly.

"Well, we do not know any Elvish, but…" Merry bit his lips. "He protected us many a time. He gave us a great example of what Elves are."

"He did not even say anything when he saw us eating an extra loaf of _lembas_," Pippin added.

Gimli, Aragorn and Gandalf chuckled at that. The Hobbits smiled, clearly not wanting to offend anyone.

"He was a bull-headed, strong-minded warrior who grew to overcome his own prejudice," Dínnor said. He and his cousins looked at Gimli.

The Dwarf nodded, then slid his hand into a pocket of his vest. When he pulled it out, the stone birds were gently clutched in his fist. He moved forward, but stopped as Rafél moved to touch his arm.

"Keep them," the Elf told him. "A memory of hope. Your friendship meant much to him, and he would not want you to forget it either."

"He has left a lasting impression, fear not," Gimli joked, but stepped back. There were tears in his eyes. A ray of the sun caught one of the jewels, but now that their inner light was gone, they seemed empty and hollow. "He should have not died like this," Gimli muttered. "He was not supposed to die at all. What is the point of being immortal if…"

"The world works in mysterious ways," Gandalf interrupted him. "He gave us a chance to keep on fighting, and gave the Dark army such a blow it will take them a while to recover from it."

"Ever since a child, that is what he wanted to do most," Thrénandu chuckled. "He had a will of an ox, and a stubbornness of a mule. His father and brothers fought the darkness within our beloved forest, and he could see no other road for himself but to join that fight. To see us triumph over that evil. And the day they destroyed the Ring, and broke down Dol Guldur…"

"It was a glorious day," Celeborn agreed.

Shannai looked around. It seemed many had a lot to say, but they would leave it for another time. The long ride home would be filled with stories of the past. But Shannai felt as if a few more should be told. "He was my best friend," he began. "For hundreds of years. But it does not matter how long; time can be wasted." He looked at Gimli, then at Rafél. The Guardian's features were set in stone, and although everyone else was visibly mourning, his exterior had not cracked yet. Shannai guessed he would wait until everyone was not watching.

"We got into the best of adventures," Shannai added. "And we did a lot of mischief together." Several groans followed from the Elves, as well as chuckles. "There was this one time I convinced him that our ancestors used to dance naked under the stars. After all, they had no clothes. So Legolas said that we should honour them in a suitable manner… We stripped off our clothes and danced beneath the trees. Of course, a patrol happened to come our way just then. We raced into the trees, but of course Rafél had to be there." Shannai grinned. "We were good runners, I tell you, and we ran _fast_, but it seems that once Rafél recovered from the shock and decided to take after us, we were not nearly fast enough."

Rafél shifted a little.

"Is he blushing?" Asthaldo asked.

"He was quite mad," Shannai concluded his story. "Once he caught us, he dragged Legolas away. I did not dare to follow him because I was certain he would know it was my idea – which it really was not – and that some grand punishment would come my way."

"Really…" Rafél noted dryly.

"It was his idea to take off our clothes!" Shannai defended himself.

"Good thing that he said exactly the same thing when he had to explain it to me. I am certain Thranduil would have had another perspective on the matter had he ever found out," the Guardian snorted.

"You never told him?" Shannai asked, wide-eyed.

"I think we all had embarrassed each other enough for one day," the older Elf retorted. "You were not exactly children anymore."

"Ah, the careless years of youth," Asthaldo sighed dramatically.

"It is… hard to picture him like that," Pippin admitted.

"He grew up by the time any of us met him," Aragorn explained. "Although I am sure he and Shannai still got themselves into trouble even then."

"But of course!" Shannai grinned, then looked down at the still face of his friend and felt the mirth slowly fade away from his heart. "I will miss him."

"We all will," Thrénandu agreed.

"He really looks like he is only sleeping," Merry noted. "I keep expecting him to wake up…" His cousin nodded beside him.

Gandalf straightened a little, leaning on his staff. "May your soul rest in peace, Prince of the Sindar. You have done well."

"It was an honour to fight beside you," Aragorn continued.

Gandalf looked at all of them, then nodded. "It is time. Let the Guardian finish his task in private. I know Legolas would have wanted it to be like this." Then he turned to walk back towards their little camp, and slowly everyone but Rafél followed him.

Shannai turned to look towards the shore until they were a respectable distance away. He wanted to watch, and knew everyone else would too. Behind him, Khai and Ithika began to sing, soon joined by their kinsmen in a sad little hymn. Rafél still stood, looking towards the Sea and its slowly moving waves. Shannai wondered if the Elf was just going to stand there, hoping it would somehow bring back the Elf he had raised, protected, and then fallen in love with.

**

* * *

**

The sound of waves crashing against the stones at the shore was oddly soothing. Legolas had once told him, when he returned home after the Ring had been destroyed, that he had heard the cry of a gull, and that the yearning had been awakened inside him. Rafél had never felt it himself, his roots too deep in this land, but right this moment he craved for… absolution.

He was tired, weary, and every beat of his heart made his chest ache. His soul cried out in agony, calling for its lost mate.

_Did I ever tell him how much I loved him?_

Rafél knew Legolas must have known, for they had been close during these last few months – months of which most they had been forced to spend apart, battling darkness and trying to stay alive. Still he felt unfulfilled, as if there was more he should have said or done; more, to at least make Legolas understand that although unexpected, their love for each other had been just as justified as it was strong.

He looked down finally, knowing there was no hiding from this moment. He had to say goodbye. The younger Elf's pale yet peaceful features gave him no solace, and would no doubt haunt his dreams whenever he dared to sleep. His protégé was dead, and he could not fight the sense of failure that kept washing over him whenever he thought of Legolas.

Yes, he should have done more.

"Lost," he whispered. He knew his exterior was cracking, breaking apart as his soul was inside.

He could hear the others singing, but they had left him alone to finish his task; to give him a moment to lament in private. Slowly he knelt beside the raft and slid his fingers lightly over Legolas' forehead. His skin was as cold as a winter night, making him want to pull back his hand. The light was gone from him, and he could no longer feel Legolas' _fëa_ beside his own.

"This is not a goodbye," he decided with determination even when he felt a tear slide down his cheek. His fingers ran over the familiar face once more, shaking slightly. "Will you wait for me?" he asked in a hushed voice. "It will not be forever. Just… a little longer."

He leaned down to kiss Legolas one more time, but it was like making love to a memory; already slipping through his fingers, a mere ghost of what it used to be.

There was a sound of hooves against rock and sand, then feet hitting the ground as the horse stopped. Rafél looked back, keeping his face impassive as he watched Thaíly walk towards him with a torch in his hand. The other stopped beside him, looking down at Legolas. He did not say anything, but Rafél could sense he also felt the loss.

Rafél stood and pushed the raft to the water. Thaíly followed him, then a dozen feet away from the shore lowered the torch to set the wood on fire. The flames spread slowly, as if it was in no hurry to bury the memory of Legolas, son of Thranduil.

Thaíly stood beside him, silent. They watched the fire spread, wood cracking, a layer of smoke lazily hiding the body from their view. It burned his eyes, but Rafél kept watching. He could not look away. Not now.

"I keep wondering about all the things that led to this moment," Thaíly finally mused.

"Us standing waist deep in the Great Sea?" Rafél snapped back at him.

"Of us watching your lover's body burn just few days after he ruined Sauron's glorious return," Thaíly corrected smoothly.

Rafél could add nothing to that. He had no desire to think of it now, the loss so fresh he could barely withstand it.

Thaíly lowered the torch to the water. It hissed and went out, after which the half-vampire strode back to the shore and mounted again, then rode away.

The raft was slowly moving away from the shore. Rafél felt a yearning to follow it, but it was not the call of the Sea. He could not go. Not before he bore news home to his King, telling him of his youngest son's demise. After that…

He raised his voice to a song:

"_Since your death  
Everything has felt so meaningless and vain  
That I've lost the will to live_

_Love, your death  
Ripped my heart right out and since you went away  
Life's had nothing more to give_

_Cross my heart and hope to die  
May my end come tonight  
Across the dark, into the light  
May death again us unite_

_Love, my fate  
Will you wait for me there… where our autumn dawns?  
There, beyond the dreary seas_

_Will you wait?  
Will you welcome me into your arms once more?  
Where our waters still fall free_

_Cross my heart and hope to die  
May my end come tonight  
Across the dark, into the light  
May death again us unite_

_Cross my heart and hope to die  
May my end come tonight  
I'll depart from this life  
May death again us unite_

_May it come…_

_My heart went down with you  
At your funeral I was buried, too  
My life – it ended with your  
And I… exist no more._"

Once it was over, Rafél still felt the pain in his heart, but he knew that he would survive. One day at the time. From one dreadful hour to the next. And perhaps eventually… all the pain would be gone.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**Author's Note:** The song sung by Rafél is _Sentenced_'s "Cross My Heart And Hope To Die" (Album: The Cold White Light). Beautiful lyrics, so check it out if you can.


	50. Chapter 48: Way Back Home

**Chapter 48: Way Back Home**

* * *

Rafél returned to them long after nightfall. The raft had long since disappeared from their view, and the night was now silent. Far away they could see fires burning in a nearby village, but other than that it was completely dark.

"Perhaps we should light a fire," one of the Dwarves suggested.

"I am hungry," Pippin seemed to agree.

"You are always hungry, Peregrin," Gandalf decided, and that ended the discussion for the moment.

Everyone was hushed as Rafél walked back. No one talked to him, and when they finally all turned in, it was clear the Guardian was not planning to lie down and rest.

"Should we talk to him?" Shannai's voice carried over to Gandalf's ears in the darkness.

"We better not. He might lash out, and I think we have had enough death for a while," Thalión decided.

Gandalf smiled hollowly, staring up to the stars. It was going to be a long, cold night with no comfort from the light above them. On the very edge of his vision he could see Rafél's silhouette where he sat apart from the rest of the group, still staring towards the Sea.

**

* * *

Following morning**

When they headed back north towards Minas Tirith the next day, Gandalf and Rafél hung back from others. They rode in silence for a while, but the Wizard could tell something was bothering the Guardian.

Soon enough, Rafél spoke up. "What do you think happened to him?" he asked. The softness of his words and the cautiousness in his tone indicated he was speaking of the dead Prince.

"You must have some idea," the Wizard replied thoughtfully.

"I do, but I fear the answer," the Guardian admitted.

Gandalf nodded and looked towards the Sea for a moment. "I pray that his soul has reached the Halls of Mandos." _If not… may my prayers be not in vain_, he added, but knew better than to say it out loud.

Rafél did not bring it up again, and frankly, Gandalf had no real desire to explore the matter either.

Aragorn, Faramir, and Éomer fell back to ride alongside them after a while. The Elves had spread out again; their excuse had been that they were scouting, but Gandalf knew they were just trying to seek some solace from the wilderness around them. They all had their own demons to carry now, the loss of their comrade most burning of them all.

"What do you think will happen next?" Aragorn asked. Gimli sat silent but attentive behind him. The Dwarf had been careful to show any sign of emotion after the funeral had ended.

"I cannot say," Gandalf began, "but I know this much: Annatar will return, and her retribution will no doubt match her father's in rage. She will be weaker now that Legolas broke Sauron's power, but she still has power over the Dark army, and she will use it against us. Whether it will be enough to cut down our defences is up to us."

The Men nodded. "Rohan will be ready," Éomer stated.

"As will Gondor," Faramir agreed. "Plans are already in motion. The people know that the enemy has gathered its strength."

Aragorn was silent, his eyes turning towards the looming border of Mordor. "All we can do is wait; wait and dread for her next move."

Gandalf looked at the King of Gondor, but he had no words of comfort to offer him; he had been short of them recently.

_to be continued…_


	51. Chapter 49: Preparations for Future

**Chapter 49: Preparations for Future**

* * *

**3 days later,  
Minas Tirith**

"Estel," Elladan greeted as he approached Aragorn.

"Busy as always, it seems?" his twin chirped as he also pushed in to join Elladan before Aragorn's desk.

The King looked at them, then at the piles of parchments waiting for his attention. "It seems I cannot run around Middle-earth and just continue where I left off."

"Imagine that," Elladan snorted softly.

"Is there a reason for this visit?" Aragorn enquired because he really needed to get some work done, and he had felt less than inspired lately. He was happy to be home, and see that his people were well, but after his first night back – when he slept off his exhaustion from travel and battle weariness – it seemed these halls had gone silent and cold. Since Arwen's death…

"You are thinking of her?" Elrohir guessed. "She would not wish you such pain. Your people need you, and there is still joy to be found in the world."

"Is that what you came to tell me?" Aragorn knew it sounded harsher than he intended, but he wished not to speak of her – not even with her brothers. The guilt was gnawing at him, and it always intensified whenever someone from Rivendell was nearby.

"Glorfindel and Erestor are heading back to Rivendell tomorrow," Elladan told him. "They shall ride with the Men of Rohan. We are thinking of staying a while. The Hobbits expressed a desire to stay as well, then head out to Rohan to stay with Éomer. We said we would accompany them when they felt like going, as it is on our way home."

Aragorn nodded. He knew everyone would head out sooner or later.

"Lord Celeborn and the Elves of Eryn Lasgalen are preparing to leave. They shall journey north together. They will probably leave after the party for Rohan moves out," the Peredhil went on.

"They would have come to tell you, but you seem to have holed up here in your study," Elrohir concluded.

"Gandalf also said he desires to have a word with you before he leaves," Elladan added suddenly, as if he had almost forgotten. "It seems he found nothing useful in the libraries, and he is trying other sources, whatever that means."

"He might come to Rivendell with us. Father's collection is quite impressive," Elrohir mused.

"Do you think he would have never mentioned Sauron had a daughter had he known?"

"Are we still talking about our father?"

There was a brief silence as the identical faces stared at each other. Then they both shrugged.

"He would have told us," Elrohir decided.

"Glad that we agree."

"Are you two done?" Aragorn asked with a sigh.

"If your Highness is done with _us_," Elladan said pointedly.

Aragorn waved his hand distractedly as he tried to focus on the appeal in front of him. He could hear the murmured words of each of the two he had called 'brother' for years, but decided he needed to get some more work done before he could leave his study. After all, Faramir had been doing too much work lately, and Aragorn felt like while he had been fulfilling one duty, he had been neglecting the one to his people.

**

* * *

**

The day to see off his friends came too soon.

"Take care of yourself, laddie," Gimli told him. "Remember, Aglarond is not all that far away, if you need a sturdy shoulder to lean on."

Aragorn nodded, clasping hands with the Dwarf.

"You should come back south at some point," Merry spoke up elsewhere. "You could join us on our way to Shire."

"You would love it there!" Pippin agreed.

"I shall, if possible." Shannai was grinning, although he seemed sad to see the Hobbits and Dwarves go; his group was heading north today, to take news to their King and kinsmen.

Gimli shook his head. "Trust me, this is not the last we have heard of that one."

Aragorn chuckled. "I think it is rather… admirable."

"Admirable?" Gimli sounded as if he was suffocating on something. "Ridiculous is more like it. One would think Elves would have enough culture to offer him…"

"He has been a great friend to us," Aragorn reminded his companion.

"Aye," Gimli finally gave up, then shook his head as young Fundal went to say goodbye. He made a choking sound again when Shannai knelt to hug the Dwarf. Aragorn heard him mutter something about 'disgrace' when he walked off to the direction of Adír, who looked just as displeased by Fundal's behaviour.

"An odd friendship," Éomer observed as he walked up to Aragorn next. His eyes were dancing, though, as he watched Shannai chatter away with his smaller friends. It seemed his Elven companions were having a much similar reaction to Gimli's as they watched him go on, but none moved to stop him. Perhaps there was some envy in them, for they were not being able to be so open about their friendship.

"I just cannot find it in my heart to blame him for being the way he is," the King of Gondor finally decided. "May he be the symbol of the friendships we have formed within this group."

"Although he is a slightly obnoxious and embarrassing symbol at times," Éomer added.

"We cannot all be carved of stone!" Shannai shouted their way.

Both Men looked embarrassed, realising that perhaps the Elf had been listening the whole time from the distance, although it seemed quite impossible with the chattering voices all around them.

"Well," Éomer went on with a slight cough. "I hope we meet again, soon," he said, sticking out his hand, and Aragorn took it into a firm grip.

"And may it be under better circumstances than this far," Aragorn hoped.

The King of Rohan nodded then slid on his helmet and walked to the Men that were waiting for him. Glorfindel and Erestor came by him next, each embracing him swiftly before heading out to their own horses waiting for them. The Dwarves pulled themselves up to their ponies, and with the sound of trumpets following, they rode out of the city.

The Elves were going to leave next. Many of them came by to say their farewells to Aragorn, and he wished them all well. "You have a dangerous, long way home," he said to the group that would travel all the way to the north.

"Fear not," Dínnor said lightly, "we shall be safe. We have plenty of sharp ears and eyes to scout for any enemy that tries to lurk in the shadows, and if they have any wisdom in their twisted minds, I suggest they stay away from our path."

Aragorn smiled, and truthfully he did pity any Orc that would cross paths with these Elves. Armed and feeling the loss of one of their own, they would not hesitate to hunt down and attack any creature that even looked at them the wrong way.

"May your journey be safe as well," Aragorn said, turning to Celeborn.

The Sinda nodded. "The lands are a little safer now, but we have fought long enough to know it may not last forever," Celeborn replied. "Stay safe. Do not give into the darkness your heart dwells so close to; we have come this far, and it would be mockery to our lost ones to give up now."

Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgement. Of course Celeborn sensed the dark thoughts that he could not escape at night.

In silence he watched the Elves mount their horses, then follow the path the Rohan party had just taken. He felt a strong yearning to follow them, but knew better than that.

A hand came to rest on his arm, and Aragorn looked to the side, seeing Gandalf standing there. Although the Wizard has said little of his plans, Aragorn knew he would be leaving soon. There was a restless light in the light eyes. But for now he stood watching their friends disappear into the distance, his presence soothing beside Aragorn's own.

"We will see them soon, I fear," Gandalf said at last.

Aragorn glanced at him. "You say it like it is a bad thing, old friend."

The Wizard sighed. "It might be. Nothing good, for certain, shall reunite this fellowship. But we should not worry about it now," he then seemed to decide. "I will leave your mighty city soon, to go on pursuit of other leads. Before I go, I want to make sure that you are well."

"I am alive," Aragorn said, aware of the bitterness in his voice.

"Neither of their deaths was your fault," Gandalf said softly yet sternly. "Arwen's death was unfortunate. One day, perhaps, we shall know the reason behind it. For now we can just guess. Legolas gave his life for us, however, and we must not waste that gift. Honour his memory, and pray for his soul."

Aragorn glanced at him sharply. "What is that supposed to mean? Is there something wrong that I should know about?"

Gandalf's face twisted in sorrow, and he leaned onto his staff with both hands, staring into the shadows still spreading over Mordor. "Never mind an old man's ramblings."

"Yours have never been such," the King of Gondor argued.

Gandalf arched an eyebrow, then stared at the accursed land again. "There is no way to know what happened to him. Rafél did not seem to be sure. But for all we know, Legolas is safely within the Halls of Mandos now, waiting for those he loves to reunite with him."

"And if he is not?" Aragorn felt sick inside.

Gandalf turned to look at him. "Then, indeed, we should pray." With that he returned inside, and Aragorn followed, knowing there was nothing further the Wizard was going to say, but he did not want to be alone either; too soon Gandalf would leave, and Aragorn would have to fully return to his duties as a King and prepare his people for a battle that was still unseen, yet sure to come.

**

* * *

**

It was a cold morning when Aragorn and Faramir stood outside the gates of Minas Tirith, watching as the White Rider climbed atop his horse. Wind was whipping around them, tugging onto their clothes. Aragorn clutched his cloak a little closer to his body.

"Stay alert," Gandalf told them. "I will send a word to you as often as I can, when I discover something that might help us. Until then, we are all on our own."

"We have defended ourselves against this enemy before, Mithrandir," Faramir said. "We shall do so yet again."

Gandalf nodded. "They may come with a roar, or in the darkness of the night, cloaked in deceit and lies. Like I said before: stay alert."

"You too," Aragorn nodded.

Gandalf smiled briefly, then urged Shadowfax forward with a soft word that disappeared into the wind. He rode south, but there was no knowing where he was headed; he had refused to tell of his plans to Aragorn, for one reason or other. Aragorn did not ask, knowing it was not his place.

"Now all we can do is wait," Faramir noted after a moment.

"Then let us not waste that time by standing here," Aragorn decided, and together they returned to the city, momentarily turning their backs to the waiting gloom of Mordor.

_to be continued…_

* * *

**Author's note:** Here is another breathing break for everyone. This story will take a bit of a summer break, and shall return later this year with new adventures.  
Is Legolas _really_ dead?  
What is Annatar planning?  
What is Daroth planning?  
Is Shannai going to move to Hobbiton?  
Is Gandalf going to find any answers at all?  
Some of those questions, and many more, shall be answered in future chapters.


End file.
